Runaway
by Alvedans
Summary: An abused eight year old Harry runs away from the Dursleys only to meet a large, grim-looking dog who claims to be his godfather.
1. Runaway

**Disclaimer**: I don't own it. JK does.

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><p>Shivering, the eight year old boy wrapped his arms around himself, trying to will the oversized shirt to be warmer, to protect him against the harsh autumn cold. Something seemed to have worked, because he was sure he was beginning to become a little warmer, but perhaps he was just imagining it. Regardless, he hoisted his backpack further up on his shoulder, not wanting to drop it despite its rather meagre contents; it was all he had.<p>

His only extra set of clothing (just as oversized as the ones he was wearing right now), his scruffy blanket, three apples and a fairy-tale book he'd taken from Dudley's extra room once had been neatly packed into the practically unused backpack - which he was sure his aunt and uncle had forgotten existed - earlier that day when Harry Potter, eight years old and the resident freak in the Dursley household, in a fit of panic and fear, had run away from home.

Now, in retrospect, he was sure it hadn't been one of his brightest moments - not that he had many of those, according to his aunt - but he was sure he couldn't go back. The mere thought of the beating Uncle Vernon would give him if he returned now had him blanching in fear, and no matter how much he wanted to crawl into the warmth of his cupboard, he forced himself onward, through streets he didn't recognize, towards a destination he didn't know.

He did feel kind of bad for taking the things he had - stealing was bad, Aunt Petunia had told him on many occasions - but he seriously doubted they would miss them. Except, perhaps, the apples; Uncle Vernon and Dudley were _very_ serious about their food.

Looking up from his feet, Harry realized he had come to a cross-road, and he bit his lip, pushing his glasses, that were beginning to fall off, up his nose as he looked from side to side, trying to determine which way to go. The road going left seemed to only lead into more houses, but the further down the road to his right he was sure he could make out a play-ground, or perhaps a park, and he figured it would be as good a place as any. If anything, he supposed he could find some place to sleep there, as it was late, and soon it would be getting dark.

Choosing to go right, he soon saw that he was nearing a playground _and_ a park, and he couldn't help but grin at having guessed right. And Uncle Vernon thought he was _stupid_. His little burst of joy - out of place and most likely highly inappropriate - faded soon, however, as a particularly cold gust of wind tore through his tiny frame, and he couldn't shake the feeling that it was laughing at him, _mocking_ (a word he'd learnt once when his aunt, uncle and cousin had been away, and he'd been looking through Dudley's very unused dictionary) him in his plight.

Pouting, and trying to suppress all the other emotions that threatened to well up inside of him - he had run away from _home_ he was all _alone_ it was _cold_ Aunt Petunia would be _furious_ he was_ all alone it was getting dark he was cold Uncle Vernon would beat him with his belt he was all alone_ - he walked up to the play-ground's swing-set, sitting down on one of the swings with a despondent sigh.

Looking around his surroundings in an attempt to distract himself from his own thoughts, his eyes fell onto a large dog he for some reason hadn't noticed earlier, and despite the situation, he found a smile forming on his face. He'd always liked dogs - except Aunt Marge's - even though they'd never had one, since Aunt Petunia didn't like dogs at all. It was one of the things not even a Dudley-tantrum had been able to change.

He held out a hand towards the dog - a large thing with shaggy, black fur and suspicious yellow eyes - still smiling. "Hey there, boy," he said calmly, having heard once on TV that you were supposed to let the dog come to you, or something like that. He'd been cooking dinner at that moment, so he hadn't been able to focus too much on the telly.

The dog was still eyeing him suspiciously, but after a few moments where it looked as if it was debating running away, it slowly edged closer to him, carefully sniffing at his outstretched hand. Harry waited patiently for the dog to relax, and then began scratching it behind its ear, letting out a small laugh as the dog immediately began wagging its tail, buffing up into his hand for more.

The little boy laughed, eagerly continuing to scratch the dog, letting it buff its large body into his in an attempt to be scratched more. Harry accepted the source of warmth, leaving the swing in favour of slumping down on the ground with the dog, leaning into its warm body as he continued to scratch it.

"You're the best dog, ever," Harry mumbled later, sighing in content, when both dog and boy had calmed down and were now sitting on the ground next to each other. The dog nudged him with its head as if to say "Why yes, yes I am," making Harry laugh. Moments later, however, he shivered, and tried to pull his shirt closer around himself. It was darkening rapidly now, and with the fading light the remnants of warmth began to disperse. Doubting it would do him much good, but cold enough to try, he pulled out his tattered blanket from his backpack, wrapping himself in the worn fabric.

The dog gave him an odd look, and Harry found himself looking away, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. "I ran away from home," he admitted morosely, pulling his knees up to his chest. The dog tilted its head to the side, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to continue. Not knowing why, Harry did. "I-I, my Aunt and Uncle and Cousin w-were out," he began, stuttering a bit as he felt tears prickle at his eyes, "and they had left me at h-home, because Mrs. Figg was away couldn't watch me." The dog nudged at him with its head, gently urging him on. "A-and I didn't mean to, but when I was t-trying to reach a book I fell a-and somehow the vase fell, too, and it broke into a million bits and Aunt Petunia is going to be so mad when she finds out, and Uncle Vernon..."

Harry's voice faltered, his eyes wide with fright at the mere thought of his uncle's reaction. Beside him, the large dog growled, making the boy flinch, scurrying away from the black dog without even realizing he was doing it until he was suddenly several feet away. Seeing the boy's distress, the dog forced itself to calm down, making a disturbingly human grimace as the boy stared at him in fear.

Then, it looked around, soft paws padding over the ground, it occasionally glancing back at Harry as if to make sure the boy was still there, and then, after what seemed like making sure they were alone, it turned back to the lithe boy. It whined in the back of its throat, its yellow eyes somehow pleading. Before Harry had time to react, the dog began to change, the body morphing, and seconds later a man stood in its place, looking at Harry with the same pleading expression the dog had had. The man was dressed in ragged clothing, and his hair seemed to do its best to impersonate a birds-nest. The beard that covered his gaunt face was must the same.

Harry was pretty sure it was alright for him to panic now. The dog had just changed into a _man_. The _dog_ had changed into a _man_. God, his uncle had been right; he _must be_ a freak.

"W-wait, Harry!" the man rasped out as Harry began to scuttle away, freezing the boy mid-step.

Turning around, the boy gave him a wild-eyed look. "You were a _dog_," he accused, voice high-pitched and panicked. "A _dog_," he repeated, and the man flinched.

"Well, yes," he admitted, and it looked like he was about to say more when Harry's eyes suddenly widened to comical proportions as realization dawned upon him.

"How do you know my name?" he whispered, beginning to get really afraid. He _knew_ he hadn't told the dog - man, whatever he was - his name.

The man grimaced again, but didn't look away from the child. "I've known you since you were born," he said, sounding very much like someone had kicked his puppy. "I-, I knew your mother and father, Lily and J-James, and, uh, well, I'm your... d-godfather. "

Harry stared at him. Godfather? No, that couldn't be right. Freaks like him didn't have things like godfathers. Besides, weren't godfathers supposed to take care of their godchildren? "No," he protested, feeling anger building up, "I don't believe you. If you're my godfather, then why did you leave me with - with the Dursleys!"

Faster than Harry could react the man was suddenly kneeling in front of him, pulling him into a tight hug. "Oh Harry, I'm so sorry," the man whispered, clutching tightly to the child's too thin body, "I'm so very sorry," he repeated, and Harry couldn't seem to determine whether it was he or the man who were shaking. Maybe both of them were. "I've been... away, you see," the man continued, stroking Harry's hair, "and I didn't know, gods, I didn't think Dumbledore would place you with _them_. What was he _thinking_?"

The last part didn't seem to be aimed at Harry, who for a moment wondered who this "Dumbledore" was. The man-who'd-been-a-dog kept muttering things under his breath, keeping apologizing over and over, and Harry found himself swallowing back a sob. "Why didn't you come get me," he wondered in a small voice, voicing what he'd wondered as long as he could remember. Why hadn't anyone come to get him, to rescue him from his aunt and uncle and his horribly cousin who made sure Harry didn't have any friends.

"Oh Harry, Harry, little Prongslet," the man mumbled, "I am so sorry." He pulled away from the child, his hands still on the boy's arms. "I wish I could've come sooner, I truly do," he confessed, attempting to smile at Harry, who looked away in an attempt to hide the fact that he was about to cry. Boys didn't cry; only freaks and babies cried.

"I was supposed to take care of you," he told the boy, swallowing in an attempt to get rid of the lump in his throat, "but I was... taken away, and I haven't been able to get back until now."

Harry, who was desperately trying not to cry, glanced at the man claiming to be his godfather, only to have to look away again at the man's practically broken look. "Y-you knew my parents?" he asked instead, in an attempt to change the subject somehow.

An overwhelming sadness emitted from the man. "Yes, I knew them," he said, every semblance of a smile having disappeared from his expression. "I went to school with them. Your father was my b-best friend, he was like a brother to me, and your mother was the most brilliant woman I have ever known."

Biting on his lower lip, Harry desperately wanted to believe the man, wanting what he said to be true. But how could he? The Dursleys always told him his parents were drunken delinquents, dying in a car-crash because his father had been drunk-driving, leaving him with the Dursleys. He told the man so, and was surprised at the anger in the man's eyes.

"Your aunt and uncle were wrong," he said through clenched teeth, "and lying. Your parents were the greatest persons on this world."

A bit frightened at the man's sudden intensity, Harry tried to change the subject again. "How can you change into a dog?" he asked, genuinely curious.

The man blinked at the sudden question, and then sighed despondently. "The Dursleys' didn't tell you anything about your parents, did they?" he asked. "About who they were, where they came from?"

"I know my mother was my aunt's sister," he said, suddenly feeling embarrassed without knowing why.

"I figured as much," the dog-man muttered under his breath, and then he smiled at Harry. "I'm a wizard, Harry, just like your mother and father was. Just like you are."

"A what?" Harry stared incredulously at the man. Was he mad? Wizards weren't re- He paused mid-thought, remembering all his uncles outburst about magic. '_There is no such thing as magic!_' His aunt was the same, snapping at him when he'd asked her about her parents. Though, to be honest, she snapped at Harry whatever he asked. Still...

Smiling at the rapid thoughts going through the child's head, realization dawning in his green eyes - lily's eyes - the man gave him a knowing look. "Ever had anything strange happen, things you couldn't quite explain?"

Eyes widening, Harry nodded. "I turned my teacher's hair blue. And once when Dudley was chasing me I was suddenly on the roof, where he couldn't reach me." Harry blinked at the realization. And here he'd figured the wind must've caught him, somehow.

The dog-man nodded and said, "Accidental magic," as if that explained everything. After a moment's thought Harry realized it probably did. Then, as if trying to remind him of its existence, a cold wind ruffled his clothing, chilling him to the bone and he failed to suppress a shiver. When had it turned so cold outside?

Frowning down at Harry, the man began to speak. "Look, Harry, there are so many things I'd like to tell you, and I'm sure you have many questions as well," which was true, "but this is not the place for it. Would you - would you like to come with me? To my house, I mean."

Harry stared at him. The surprises had been standing in line, it seemed. He knew trusting strangers was a bad idea - and the strange man-who'd-been-a-dog certainly counted as a stranger - but his other options were staying there or going back to the Dursleys. He shivered at the mere thought - or perhaps it was due to the cold - and immediately scrapped that idea. He wouldn't go back to them, ever. Also, there was something about the man that Harry couldn't help but... trust.

Against better judgement, Harry nodded, looking up at the man with large, hopeful eyes. "I'd love to come with you," he said, but then hesitated. "It's just that... Well, I-I don'tknowyourname." He rushed out the last part, feeling his cheeks redden in embarrassment.

The man blinked in surprise, taking a moment to decipher the boy's word, and then smiled. "Sirius," he said. "My name is Sirius. Now, hold on to me, this will be a bit uncomfortable."

Harry did as he was told, clutching the man's arm close to his body. The man - _Sirius_ - smiled down at him, and then produced a stick from nowhere. Moments later the world around him darkened, and Harry felt like he was being sucked through a tiny hole, feeling _something_ press down on him from all around, pressing all air out from his chest. Then, as soon as it had begun, it was over, and Harry found himself staring up at a row of connected, run-down houses. The street was deserted, and one of the street-lamps was broken.

"Harry," Sirius said with a grin, "Welcome to Grimmauld Place."

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><p><strong>AN**: I'm not entirely sure what to say. First story I'm posting here on , and it's a prologue-thing of a story I fully intend to continue, even though I quite frankly have no idea where it'll go. I'll come up with things as I write them. Also, spell-check keeps wanting to change Dumbledore into Tumbledown. The next suggestion is Battledore. For some reason I find this hilarious.


	2. Padfoot

**Disclaimer**: I don't own, JK does.

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><p>Harry watched in wonder as the house suddenly shifted, and number 11 and 13 began to move away from each other, revealing that another house was lodged between them. He glanced up at Sirius, who was looking grim as he watched the newly appeared house. "Wouldn't someone have noticed that?" Harry wondered, still plastered to Sirius side after their strange, highly unpleasant travel.<p>

His godfather let out a laugh. "Muggles can't see this place," he explained as he led the boy up the stairs.

"Muggles?" Harry was thoroughly confused. Wasn't dogs turning into humans enough?

Sirius made a humming sound in the back of his throat, carefully examining the door. "Non-magical people," he explained. "People like your aunt and uncle."

"Oh," Harry said, blinking. Then a small frown creased his brows. "I don't think I like muggles very much.

The look Sirius gave him made him look away, his face heating up. Apparently that was something you were not supposed to say. "Why can't they see this house?" Harry quickly asked, trying to distract his godfather. It worked.

"My father," the word was spoken with a certain hint of bitterness, "put enough spells and wards on this place to make it nearly impossible for wizards to find it, let alone muggles who can't seem to notice a hippogriff even though it's prancing through their garden."

Harry nodded, stepping back a step as Sirius finally opened the door, letting out a gust of stale air. It did make sense, after all. Only... "What's a hippogriff?"

Sirius paused mid-step, glancing down at the boy. "It's a... I'll show you a picture later, okay?" Harry nodded. "Good, now, stay behind me, and don't touch anything. Gods knows what might be lying around here."

A bit disconcerted at his godfather's orders, Harry still complied, staying as close to the older man as he could without walking on his heels, staring around with wide eyes. They had come into a large, dark hallway, and Harry saw Sirius bring out his strange stick again, mumbling something under his breath. The end of the stick lit up, and for a moment Harry forgot about the hallway as he stared at the magical light.

Sirius grimaced at the state of the place; the wallpapers were practically coming off from the walls, and there was a thick layer of dust covering everything in sight. A quick glance into the dining room showed that the room was practically uninhabitable, with the furniture upended and dust everywhere. The man grimaced; it seemed he would have to do some serious cleaning. Or, rather, some Sirius cleaning.

Snickering at his own mental pun, he then led Harry up four flights of stairs, grimacing at the house-elf heads still on the wall of the lowest staircase and promising to explain it to Harry later, with the side comment "My mother was bonkers." Once at the highest point, he only had to glance into his own old room to see it was inhabitable. Strangely enough Regulus room seemed to be in an alright state - albeit a tad bit dusty - and even though it did bother him, he figured it would be a good a room as any.

Vanishing most of the dust with a flick of his wand, he then turned around to face Harry, who was staring around curiously. "This," Sirius began, "was my brother's old room. It's probably the only habitable room in the house at this moment which means we will probably set camp here, at least until we've cleaned up the other rooms."

Harry nodded, still a bit confused - and very curious - and just a tad bit uncertain about his strange godfather, but he decided he liked the way Sirius had said "we". As if they were a team. As if Harry was supposed to stay. Yes, he liked that a lot.

Sirius did wonder a bit at Harry's eagerness to agree - Regulus' room wasn't _that_ amazing. Sirius' room was much, much cooler - but he shrugged it off, figuring the boy was just... dazed. Yeah, that must be it. Also, hungry, he noted with a smile as Harry's stomach suddenly rumbled quite loudly, making the boy blush in embarrassment.

Laughing, Sirius ruffled the boy's hair. "I know what you mean," he said, glancing mischievously at Harry's stomach. "Wait here, I'll go down to the kitchen and see if there's anything edible." At the boy's suddenly afraid look Sirius' smile softened. "I'd take you with me," he assured the boy, "but I don't know what state the kitchen is in. Quite frankly, I'm not sure _I_ want to go there. Except for, you know, food."

Harry still felt a bit peeved at being left alone, but Sirius did make a convincing argument - judging by the look on the man's face, Harry began to think that he, too, wouldn't want to go to the kitchen - and so he sat down by the desk in the room, putting his backpack down onto the floor. Sirius ruffled his hair again, and then left with the promise to "be back in a minute". Harry watched the man go out the door, and then sighed, resigning himself to waiting.

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><p>Quickly walking down the stairs, Sirius grimaced as he took in the run-down state of his old home. He knew his mother had died some three or four years back - a minister official had told him during an inspection - but he didn't quite think the place would fall apart so quickly. Snorting at his own thoughts, he couldn't help but shake his head as he started down the stairs leading to the kitchen. If someone had told him he'd return to Grimmauld Place 12 a week ago, he'd most likely hexed that person to oblivion. Or perhaps he'd hit the person with a brick. Probably both.<p>

Finding Harry had changed quite a lot, though. When Sirius had seen the scrawny boy walk into the playground, his first thought was that he must've been sent back in time, somehow, because he certainly didn't remember James being _that_ young, and he was quite sure Prongs shouldn't even be alive, but then the boy had looked at him with green eyes, Lily's eyes, and Sirius' stomach had neatly tied itself into an impressive knot.

Walking into the kitchen, he grimaced at the mess the place was in, much like the rest of the house. Sirius began to wonder if maybe it had started even before his mother died. That woman had never did have all her screws fastened properly. In fact, he was pretty sure _all_ her screws had been loose. Every single one of them.

Shaking thoughts of his deceased nutter of a mum out of his head, Sirius continued his scavenging, rummaging through the many cupboards, nooks and crannies. His search found him two rats nests, something which looked suspiciously much like doxy-droppings, a jar of something he really didn't want to examine closer, and, after a while, he managed to dig out a few loaves of bread that seemed to have been put under an ever-last spell, making them edible - if a bit dry. He also took a couple of mugs from one of the top cupboards, vanished the dust in them with his wand, and then began the ascent up to Harry again.

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><p>Waiting patiently for Sirius to return, Harry looked around the strange room, decorated in green and silver. The bed and the desk were made out of a dark wood, and despite still being a bit dusty it was in no way near as bad as the other rooms he'd seen. On the far end of the room stood a large book-case, seemingly made out of the same dark wood as the other furniture, and the books occupying the shelves looked old and worn. Unable to stifle a sudden burst of curiosity, Harry carefully made his way over to the book-case, only looking over his shoulder towards the door once.<p>

Harry had always had a fascination with books; the thought that such a little thing could hold heaps of information, and, if one was inclined to imagination, whole worlds could be explored simply by turning a page. Of course, one reason for his affection for books was the simple fact that Dudley _didn't_ like them. Many times, when Dudley and his little gang of friends enjoyed their favourite sport, Harry-hunting, Harry had been forced to hide in the library, a place Dudley never would set his foot in willingly, and if Dudley wouldn't go, neither would his friends.

Thus, Harry had found himself in a world of books, and had spent many a free periods determined to read them all. Needless to say he hadn't been quite successful in that endeavor - not for lack of trying, though.

The books before him now were different from those at the school library; dark, old musty tomes, leather bound and Harry was certain all of them were older than him. He was almost afraid to touch them; some of them had titles he couldn't read, having faded away with time, and others had titles he could read, but didn't understand. A few books even had a certain _feeling_ about them that gave Harry goosebumps whenever his eyes trailed over them. He couldn't quite decide whether it was a bad feeling or not.

Not quite knowing why, he began reaching for the books. His fingers almost ghosted over the backs of the leathery tomes, but then he heard a strange _pop_ coming from behind him, and startled, he twirled around, trying to see what had made the sound.

It was, he had to point out, the strangest thing he'd ever seen - and he had seen a dog turn into a man and a house grow out of nowhere, that very same day. It was a tiny creature, with many folds of grey skin, and a really large head. It reached up to his waist, and, seemingly unaware of Harry's presence, the little creature began to shuffle around, muttering darkly under its breath. It didn't seem to have noticed Harry.

Harry wasn't sure what to do. Glancing at the door, he began to wish that Sirius hadn't left, no matter how hungry Harry was. It would've been okay, really; he'd gone without food before, he would've been just fine.

The creature turned, laying its large, tennis-ball like eyes upon Harry, and immediately stopped speaking, as if shocked into silence. It didn't last long, however. "Nasty, filthy thief thinking he can come into Master's room," it said, voice surprisingly deep for such a tiny thing. "Kreacher won't stand for it, oh, no he won't."

The thing snapped its fingers, and Harry suddenly found he couldn't move.

"Poor old mistress, what would she think if she saw what had become of her Grimmauld, oh," the thing bemoaned, more to itself than to Harry, the boy suspected. He also suspected it was the cause of his sudden immobilization, and he got the inkling that whatever the strange creature would do, it wouldn't be pleasant for Harry. He began, not for the first time, to wish that Sirius hadn't left. Or that Harry had gone with him. Even being back at the Dursleys' would've most likely been an improvement, but he wasn't entirely sure about that one.

As the creature began to advance on him, still muttering darkly about its mistress, Harry felt this to be an appropriate time to panic. He was about to do so, too, but then he suddenly heard someone coming up the stairs.

"Sirius!" he called, not quite managing to keep his voice from acquiring a certain shrillness. A moment of silence followed, and then the door burst open, Sirius rushing in with his strange stick held high.

"Prongslet!" the man shouted as he dashed into the room. Wild-eyed, he searched the room for whatever had made Harry shout for him, and he was more than a little surprised when he laid eyes on a tiny, grey little thing who had up until now been advancing towards Harry, still muttering bitterly under its breath.

Putting his wand back in his tattered clothes, Sirius made a disgusted grimace. "Kreacher," he spat, and the little creature visibly flinched. "Release him, _now_."

The creature did so, albeit not without reluctance, and it muttered darkly under its breath about filthy blood traitors and its poor, poor mistress. Sirius gave it a last, dark look, and then he went up to Harry.

"Are you okay?" he asked, kneeling down to Harry's level.

The boy, visibly shaken, nodded. "Y-yeah," he mumbled, glancing towards the bitter little grey thing. "Sirius, what _is_ that?"

Assured that the boy was okay, Sirius smiled and stood up again. "That," he said, "is a house-elf." At the boy's confused look, he opened his mouth to explain, but then paused. How _did_ one explain a house-elf, anyway? "W-well, they cook and clean, and... stuff."

Harry made an "Oh," in understanding, and then nodded. "Like what I did for my aunt and uncle," he clarified, suddenly looking at the little creature - the _house-elf_ - with understanding.

Sirius began to nod in agreement, but then stilled, Harry's words fully registering in his brain. '_Like what I did for my aunt and uncle.'_ The man felt his hands clench as he, not for the first time, felt a surge of anger towards the Dursleys. They boy was a part of their _family_, for crying out loud, and they made him work. Like a house-elf. What had Dumbledore been thinking, placing Harry with them? He shook his head. The old man had a lot of things to answer to, it seemed.

Harry, unaware of his godfather's grim thoughts, was staring at the house-elf with newfound curiosity. It was still muttering darkly, every now and then shooting sneaky glances towards Harry and Sirius. A smile forming on his lips, Harry gave the still brooding Sirius a quick glance, and then he slowly walked over to the house-elf, curiosity written over his features. He kneeled in front of it, looking at it with wide eyes.

Kreacher stopped muttering and stared suspiciously at the boy.

"Hello," Harry said with a friendly smile.

The house-elf became even more confused, and he glanced - almost against his will - at Sirius, his master, for some sort of guidance or order on how to handle this new development. Sirius was far too busy brooding darkly to notice his house-elf's plight.

"I'm Harry," the boy said, still smiling. "What is your name?"

Kreacher was sweating nervously now, seemingly frozen in place, not knowing what to do. When no orders came from Sirius, the house-elf swallowed nervously. "K-Kreacher, sir," he said.

Harry's smile turned absolutely radiant. "Nice to meet you, Kreacher," he greeted, and the house-elf almost fainted on the spot.

"Sir Boy thinks it be nice meeting Kreacher?" the elf asked tentatively, still very unsure on how to handle the strange child.

"Of course I do," Harry answered, as oblivious to the elf's discomfort as Sirius was.

Before-mentioned oblivious godfather had pulled himself out of his brooding by now, and turned to see the strange sight of his godson smiling brightly at Kreacher, who almost looked as if he was smiling back. Knowing he imagined things - Kreacher? Smiling? Hah, not in this world - Sirius shook the strange thoughts out of his head and walked up to Harry, softly ruffling his hair.

"Okay, Prongslet," he said, smiling down at the boy, "it's time for bed."

Harry sighed, but didn't protest - his uncle and aunt always got angry when he tried to protest against anything, and Harry didn't want to anger his newfound godfather unnecessarily - as Sirius led him towards the only bed in the room. The man easily lifted the child up, setting him down upon the covers. He brought out his strange stick, and Harry watched in wonder as his oversized clothes suddenly changed into a fitting, red pajamas with little lions all over it.

"Wow," Harry said before he could stop himself. "That was _so_ cool"

Sirius smiled at the boy, and then proceeded to tuck him in under the covers, softly stroking his hair.

"But Sirius," the child blurted out before he could stop himself, "where are _you_ going to sleep?"

The man blinked. He was about to say "The floor," but for some reason he didn't think his godson would accept that answer. Instead he said, "Kreacher!"

"Yes, master sir?" the elf immediately replied, still so stunned he forgot to be mean.

"Take one of the beds from the guest rooms and set it up in here."

The elf nodded, but his reluctance was back, and Harry watched in fascination how he popped out of existence, only to return moments later, bed in tow. It didn't seem like Kreacher had bothered to do anything except than just his order, however; the bed was covered in a thick layer of dust, and there was something that looked suspiciously much like mice-spilling by the end of the bed.

Sirius gave the elf a murderous look. "That's all," he spat out through clenched teeth, and as the elf popped out of existence again, Sirius took out his wand and quickly vanished the dust and the _other_ stuff. He moved the bed so it laid next to Harry's, and then, without bothering to make a pajamas for himself, he kicked of his shoes and climbed in under the covers, lying down in a proper bed for the first time in seven years.

With another flick of his wand he put out the lights, so that the room became dark, except for a dim light from the street-lamps on the street outside. "You okay there, Prongslet?" he asked, trying to locate the boy in the darkness.

"Yeah," came a tired response. "Why do you call me Prongslet?"

Despite knowing the kid couldn't see it, Sirius grinned. "Your dad's nickname was Prongs," he explained, a myriad of fond memories washing over him at the mention of the name.

Harry let out a small "Oh," in response, and after a moment's thought he spoke again. "Did he have a nickname for you, too?"

For just a brief moment Sirius heart constricted, memories of his old friends - his old _life_ - tumbling around in his mind, and then a sad smile formed on his lips. "Yeah," he said. "He used to call me Padfoot."

Shifting a bit to lie more comfortably, Harry smiled into his pillow. "Padfoot," he tried, tasting the word. "I like that." Then he fell asleep, leaving Sirius alone with his thoughts.

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><p>AN: Okay, chapter two. I can do this. So, yeah, Grimmauld Place 12. Funny place, that. And spell-check thought hippogriff should be hippodrome.


	3. Discovered

**Disclaimer**: I don't own, JK does.

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><p>Slowly regaining consciousness, waking up from sleep, Harry snuggle closer into the pillow, unwilling to open his eyes. He'd had such a marvellous dream about a dog who could turn into his godfather, a house growing out of nowhere and a strange little creature who moved furniture. It had been the strangest dream he'd ever had - even stranger than that one dream he'd had once about a flying motorcycle - but he couldn't help a pang of sadness, knowing that it had been just a dream. He suspected aunt Petunia would be waking him up soon, banging on the cupboard door and telling him to get up and make breakfast.<p>

Harry frowned, his eyes still closed. His cupboard. There was something decidedly strange about his cupboard this morning; it was far too _bright_.

He carefully opened his eyes to a room with robust, wooden furniture. The single window in the room let in the morning light, brightening up the room significantly. The wall on the far side of the room, opposite to where Harry's bed was, was covered in shelves filled with leathery old books. There was another bed beside his, but it was empty - even though the sheets showed signs of someone having slept there - and Harry wondered, a bit worried, where Sirius was.

He didn't have to worry for long, however, for mere moments later a newly shaved Sirius looked into the room. "You up, Prongslet?" he asked with a grin as he walked into the room. His face still looked gaunt and malnourished, but without the beard and with cleaner clothes, he looked almost respectable. The key-word being almost.

Sitting up, Harry blinked for a moment before rubbing the rest of sleep out of his eyes. "Yeah," he mumbled, letting his hands fall to his lap.

Sirius smiled down at his godson. "Well," he began, "There isn't much edible in the house at the moment. I've sent Kreacher out to, you know, restock and stuff, but that's probably going to take all day, so I figured that maybe you and I could go out and eat breakfast?" Sirius tried not to look too hopeful.

The child blinked for a moment, willing his brain to wake up, too, and once the words had registered he lit up like a little sun. No one had ever taken Harry out for breakfast before; the Dursleys always left him with Mrs. Figg whenever they took Dudley out for something. "I'd like that," he told his godfather with a bright smile.

"Great," Sirius said, his grin widening just a fraction. "Let's go, then!"

Harry scrambled out of bed to keep up with his godfather, who was already on his way down the stairs, and it was only when Harry himself had gone down a floor he realized something. "Padfoot, wait," he said, accidentally using the nickname Sirius had told him about. He didn't notice the man's flinch as he rushed to catch up with him. "I-I'm still in my pyjamas," Harry explained with a blush, feeling terrible about being such a bother. "P-people might think it's strange."

Sirius paused mid-step, almost making Harry crash into him. He turned to look down at Harry's bright red pyjamas - Sirius himself was especially proud of the lions - and nodded in agreement. "You're probably right," he admitted. It _would_ look rather curious, even in the wizarding world, should Harry go out in nothing but his pyjamas. Grinning at the thought, Sirius took out his wand. "I'm going to change them back to your old clothes," he explained as he did so. "I'd change them into something more fitting, but my transfigurations have a tendency of cancelling themselves at unfortunate times. It makes for a great party-trick, but I think even muggles might get suspicious if they ever saw it."

The two shared a grin at the thought of someone's clothes changing suddenly, and then they continued down the stairs. Harry, having shorter legs than Sirius, had to half-run to keep up, but he didn't mind much.

They reached the right floor, and then began down the hall leading to the front door. Sirius absent-mindedly kicked at some of the rubble covering the floor, and a stray cup that had been lying on the floor went flying into the wall, just below where a heavy drapery was hanging. The sound of the cup hitting the wall echoed through the house, and less than a second later the drapery flew apart, revealing a large painting of a black-haired, grim-looking woman.

A painting of a black-haired, grim-looking woman who was _screaming_ at them. Loudly.

"How dare you show your face here again, you ungrateful blood-traitor!"

Both Sirius and Harry jumped back in shock, the latter hiding behind the former in surprise.

"_Merlin's beard_, woman," Sirius complained over the noise, "you put yourself on the _wall_!"

The painting ignored him in favour of hurling another insult at him. Sirius scrambled to bring out his wand and quickly cast a silencing charm on the painting, only to grimace in dismay as he realized it didn't work; the painting was still as loud - and as insulting.

"Oh, for the love of-!" Sirius muttered under his breath. "I'll have to do it the hard way, then," he then added, and began to struggle with the draperies to pull them down over the painting again, a task made more difficult by the fact that the draperies didn't want to cooperate. Sirius muttered a few choice curses under his breath, and then, with a final yank, managed to close the draperies. He backed away from them, careful to not step on anything as he watched them warily. When they remained immobile - and the painting silent - for several minutes he released a breath of relief, muttering "Crazy woman," under his breath.

Harry stared at where there'd just been a _painting_ that _screamed_ and _moved_, subconsciously edging closer to Sirius. "Wh-who was that?" he whispered, not wanting to disturb the painting again.

Sirius, still having a rather wild-eyed look, began to lead the boy towards the door. "My mum," he explained, shooting wary glances over his shoulder. "Crazy woman."

Looking back towards the now innocent-looking drapes, Harry couldn't help but silently agree. She'd seemed absolutely bonkers, and had screamed louder than even aunt Petunia; an impressive achievement, to say the least.

Reaching the front door, Sirius stopped to look down at Harry. "I'm going to change into a dog again, okay?" he told the child.

Harry blinked in surprise. "Why?" he asked, and then blushed in embarrassment at being so forwards; uncle Vernon always yelled at him when he spoke out of turn. Sirius, seemed to look just a tad bit nervous, even though he tried to hide it behind a smile.

"Well, you see, there are certain... people who are... looking for me, and, well..." he trailed off, not knowing how to continue. He couldn't very well tell the kid he was an escaped convict, now could he? True, he probably should tell Harry the truth, and he _would_, just not right that moment.

"And you don't want them to know you're you?" Harry finished with more understanding an eight year old rightly should have. He had some experience with not wanting people - more precisely, his cousin and his gang of friends - to find him.

Sirius gave his godson an odd look - one day he'd have Harry tell him just what had happened at the Dursleys - but soon shrugged it off, figuring that now wasn't the time for a heart-to-heart chat. "Alright, then," he said, beginning to search his pockets. "There's a small café around the corner if I remember correctly." Before Harry could wonder about money, Sirius brought out a few crumpled notes and gave them to Harry. "That should cover everything, I think," he said, and then, finding nothing else to say, he changed.

Now standing side to side with a large, black dog, and with his hands full of more money he'd ever had, Harry swallowed nervously, stuffed the money into one of his pockets, and then opened the front door.

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><p>It turned out that Sirius had remembered correctly, and the two of them were now sitting in a corner in the small café, enjoying a sandwich each. Harry was sitting by a small table, his feet dangling from the chair, while Sirius was lying on the ground, happily gnawing at his breakfast. The lady behind the counter had hesitated at first when Harry had asked if he could bring his dog in with him, but after taking in the boy's ragged, too-large clothing she'd reluctantly agreed. She'd even given him a few old newspapers to lay on the floor where Sirius would eat, if only to make sure the dog didn't slobber all over her floor.<p>

"This is nice," Harry said absent-mindedly after finishing his sandwich. Sirius the dog buffed his hand in agreement, and then, with a large dog-grin, proceeded to lay his head in Harry's lap, playfully licking his fingers for leftover crumbs. "Padfoot, stop that!" the boy said, laughing, trying to push the dog away. Sirius eventually settled with laying his head back in Harry's lap, but not before giving the boy's fingers a last lick. "You're impossible," the boy admonished, still chuckling, as he used a napkin to dry the dog-slobber of his hands.

"Are you finished, dear?"

Harry looked up to see the woman from behind the counter smile down at him expectantly. A bit startled, he managed to get out a small "Y-yeah," quickly looking down at the table, and thus missing the woman's concerned frown.

"Well, let me just take your plate for you, then," she said, smiling again. "Is there anything else you want?" she added once she had his empty plate on her tray.

Shooting a questioning look down at Sirius, who subtly shook his head, he then looked back up at the woman. "No, thank you," he told her. At first she looked as if she wanted to say something, but then she just smiled, said "Alright, then" and went back to the counter with her tray.

Watching her leave with just a hint of worry in his eyes, Harry absent-mindedly stroked Sirius over the head. "I know, Padfoot," he said in response to the dog-man's faint whine. "Maybe we should leave."

The dog grumbled in agreement, and then backed away so Harry could stand up. They made for the door, and were almost out on the street, where they could easily slip back to Grimmauld Place, when a hand on his shoulder stopped Harry dead in his tracks. He slowly turned around to see a middle-aged man smile down at him in what he assumed was meant to be a calming manner.

"Where are your parents, son?" the man asked, still smiling, and Harry could hear Padfoot growl lowly behind him. Patting the dog reassuringly on the head, he then glanced towards the counter, where the woman who'd taken his plate was watching them with worried eyes, but she made no move to interfere. Harry suspected she'd been the one to get the middle-aged man in the first place.

"Th-they're somewhere... else," he said in response to the question, barely able to keep his voice even. He began to edge towards the door, feeling very aware of the fact that people had begun to stare at them.

He shrugged the man's hand away from his shoulder, agilely stepping out of reach as the man tried to grab him again. "I have to go," the boy muttered, opening the door so he and Sirius could get out.

"Wait!" the man called after them. "You should stay here so we can call your parents!"

To Harry's dismay the man followed them out the door, and he was just about to break into a run, Padfoot at his heels, when he suddenly ran into something. Or, rather, a someone. Strong hands caught him before he could fall to the ground, and Harry looked up to see a pointed face look down on him.

The man had long, blonde hair, cold grey eyes, and carried himself with a sense of superiority, giving off an aura of aloof arrogance, as if he fully believed he was better than everyone else. He was tall, with aristocratic features and obviously expensive - albeit a bit odd - clothing. In one of his hands he had a black cane. At first the man glared down at Harry with cold disdain, but then his eyes flickered to the scar on Harry's forehead. A look of shock and surprise passed over his face, and his eyes narrowed just a fraction. Then he smiled.

"_There_ you are," he said smoothly, giving Harry a look that silently seemed to order him to play along.

Padfoot, who'd by now noticed the blonde stranger, too, growled threateningly, the fur on the back of his neck rising. Harry tried to calm him by scratching him behind his ears, but although it kept the dog in place, it did in no way affect the sheer hostility Sirius emitted.

"Running away like that," the man admonished, and Harry got the feeling it was more directed towards the man from the café, who was now staring at them uncertainly, rather than at Harry himself. "You gave your aunt quite the scare."

Lowering his eyes, Harry muttered "Sorry," under his breath, by now having to hold Sirius by the scruff of his neck to stop him from doing something stupid.

"You two know each other?" the man from the café asked, still looking uncertain, but with a faint hint of suspicion written over his features.

The blonde shot him a disparaging look down his nose, which seemed enough to discourage the other man enough to make him leave - though not before giving them a last, suspicious look - and then the blonde snaked an arm around Harry's shoulders and began steering him away. Harry tried to slink away from the man's arm, but found himself quite stuck, the man having a firm grip on his shoulder.

Sirius was stalking after them, growling dangerously towards the stranger, who by then had begun to lead them towards an empty alley. They had barely managed to get out of public sight before Sirius transformed back into a man, wand drawn and pointed straight at the blonde man's chest.

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't end you right now, _Malfoy_," he spat angrily.

The man didn't seem to be overly bothered by the situation; in fact, he had the audacity to _smirk_ at the glaring Sirius. "A stolen wand, hm? My, the most ancient house of Black seems to have sunken quite low these days. Say, how was Azkaban?"

Sirius grip on his wand tightened. "I could give you a personal tour."

Malfoy allowed himself a cold snicker. "Threatening a ministry official? Are you sure you can afford that, Black?" As if to prove his point, he glanced towards Harry, who was standing half-hidden behind Sirius, with a smirk.

"What do you want, Malfoy?" Sirius spit out through clenched teeth, obviously having a hard time restraining himself. The only thing keeping him somewhat grounded was the knowledge that Harry was with him, and it wouldn't do any of them any good should Sirius do something that would get him sent back to Azkaban, never mind that he suspected he might already be well on his way there.

Giving Harry another calculating glance, the blonde then smirked at Sirius. "Quite the extraordinary occurrence," he said, completely ignoring Sirius' question, "you finding the... _beloved_ boy-who-lived merely days after escaping, when people have been looking for him for years. Especially considering the boy's current... state." He gave Harry, especially his clearly over-sized clothes, another look, absent-mindedly fingering his cane. For a second his eyes seemed distant, as if he was lost in thought, but then he smirked at Sirius again. "Well, this has been ever so pleasant," his tone clearly said that it hadn't, "but I'm afraid I have to leave."

Without further ado, the man suddenly brought out his own wand from within his cane, and seconds later he had disappeared from existence with a small pop.

Sirius glared at where the blonde had just been, and didn't lower his wand until after several moments. "Bloody bastard," he muttered under his breath, sheathing his wand beneath his clothes. He then turned to Harry, who was wide-eyed, and Sirius felt a pang of regret at the thought of having frightened his godson.

"Who was that?" the child asked after a moment, slowly looking up at an uncomfortable Sirius.

"Lucius Malfoy," Sirius sighed.

"W-was he a w-wizard, too?"

Sirius sighed again and nodded, absent-mindedly dragging his fingers through his hair. "Look, Harry," he then said, "I will answer all your questions, but could we get back to Grimmauld Place first? It's not safe here." He didn't mention _why_ it wasn't safe.

Harry thought about it for a moment, swallowed nervously as he glanced at where the other man had stood, and then nodded. Taking it as a sign of agreement, Sirius quickly changed back into a dog and then led Harry back towards Grimmauld Place 12, praying they didn't run into anything else on their way there.

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><p><strong>AN**: Another chapter. Woohoo. And this time spell-check thought Lucius should be Luscious, and that Malfoy should be Malformed. I wonder how much Luscious Malformed got picked on in his childhood. Also, thanks so much to everyone who added this story to their alerts or favourites and/or reviewed. It makes me feel like I own the world.


	4. Insomnia

**Disclaimer**: I wonder if anyone would react if I actually did claim to own it. Not that I do, mind you.

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><p>When Lucius climbed into bed next to his wife Narcissa that night, the woman, who had been reading, put her book aside, giving her husband an arched look. "What's the matter, Lucius?" she asked. "You've been acting strange all evening."<p>

Settling down on his side, supporting his head with his hand, Lucius thought for a moment before speaking. "I had a most interesting encounter today," he began, "with your cousin and the so-called saviour of the wizarding world."

His comment got the desired reaction; Narcissa gave him a dubious look, her perfect blonde eyebrows raised. "Is that so?" she replied icily, making Lucius grin; an expression he only ever showed to his wife.

The glare she sent his way was wonderfully haughty, and it fit exceptionally well on her beautiful features, but Lucius figured he had teased her enough. "I ran into the boy after my meeting with Mr. Hodson. Or, rather, he ran into me - quite literally."

Narcissa's features morphed into a frown. "All alone?" There was a faint trace of worry in her voice; despite her political views, she was a mother, too, and the thought of such a young child out on his own was quite disconcerting.

Lucius nodded in confirmation. "So it seemed at first, except for a large dog practically glued to his side."

His wife's eyes narrowed, a thoughtful look passing through them. "It was Sirius, was it not?" she asked after barely a moment of thought. "I remember that vile little man mentioning something about animagi."

Lucius had to smile at his wife's brilliance. "Quite so. Once out of view, the man changed and immediately drew his wand at me, and the boy went scurrying to hide behind him." He gave his wife a look. "The boy looked horrible, love. As skinny as a thestral and clad in ridiculously over-sized, muggle clothing."

Narcissa gave him another incredulous look. "You mean to tell me the child was placed with _muggles_?"

Sharing his wife's disdain at the mere thought, he nodded grimly. "It does seem so, yes."

"The poor child," she said with heart-felt revulsion. "Even staying with Sirius would be a significant improvement over filthy muggles." She thought for a moment. "Where was it you met them?" she then asked him. Lucius quickly provided the answer, and Narcissa's eyebrows once again contorted into a frown. "That's not at all far from the Black ancestral home," she murmured. "It would seem my dear cousin has finally returned home."

Lucius frowned. "Wasn't he disowned?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Narcissa nodded. "He was," she agreed, "but when Regulus disappeared Walburga seemed to realize she was running out of heirs, and quickly reinstated Sirius as the Black heir." Another thoughtful look passed over her delicate features. "Perhaps I should pay my dear cousin a visit," she mused. Lucius' eyebrows rose, but he chose not to comment, and soon they had moved onto other subjects. A few comments later they decided to turn off the lights, and Lucius fell asleep with his wife in his arms, still contemplating the state of the boy-who-lived.

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><p>Harry crept into his bed at Grimmauld Place with his head filled with answers he was no longer sure he wanted. His eyes were red and puffy from crying, and an emotion-induced tiredness had seeped through him, down to the bone. He and Sirius had returned to Grimmauld Place 12, and, as promised, the man had answered Harry's question, including the one about what had really happened to his parents.<p>

Sirius had told him everything; about the war, about Voldemort, about those who had supported him, and how his parents had refused to follow Voldemort, going as far as giving their lives for their cause and Harry. He had cried when Sirius had explained how Voldemort had come to their house and killed his mother and father, all because their friend, Peter Pettigrew, betrayed them . Sirius had then proceeded to explain how he'd gone after Pettigrew, and how the man had tricked him and managed to get him sent to Azkaban, which Sirius then had explained was a magical prisons guarded by dementors.

"Dementors?" Harry had asked, noticing how Sirius shuddered at the mere mentioning of them.

"Horrible creatures, Prongslet," the man had mumbled, eyes far away in what seemed like highly unpleasant memories. "They feed on happy emotions, drawing every ounce of happiness from you by just being in the same room. Most go mad after a few weeks. Some last longer."

"Like you?"

Sirius blinked, shocked out of his reverie and looked at Harry, almost as if he was seeing him for the first time. "I-," he began, seemingly unsure on how to explain things. "It was a close call, even for me," he said, "but I knew I was innocent; it wasn't a happy thought, so the dementors couldn't take it from me. After a while it became more of an obsession, and then I realized I could still change into a dog, into Padfoot." He paused again, swallowing. "You see, a dog's brain works differently from a human's, and I wasn't as affected by the dementors when I became Padfoot."

He had also explained who the man they'd met, Lucius Malfoy, had been, and how his family had supported Voldemort up until the man disappeared. And then he told Harry how he'd finally escaped from the prison that was said to be impregnable, after overhearing a couple of aurora doing a check on the prisoners discussing the mystery of the boy-who-lived, who had mysteriously disappeared from the wizarding world not long after Voldemort himself, with nothing but Dumbledore's assurance that the child was fine.

Dumbledore, Sirius told him, was the headmaster of Hogwarts, where he and Harry's parents had gone to school. In the words he didn't say laid a sense of betrayal, and Harry remembered Sirius mentioning him before, when they'd just met.

Burrowing his head down into the pillow, Harry sighed unhappily. It was just so much information, all of it spinning madly around in his head, and he felt as if he was going to burst. There was also a cold, gnawing sensation that refused to leave his stomach whenever he thought of his parents and their death, and how that Dumbledore-person had taken him away from Sirius when he was a baby, leaving him with the Dursleys.

This night he had his room to himself; Sirius had ordered Kreacher to move the extra bed into his old room, telling Harry he would give the boy time to think and sort things out, but Harry couldn't help but feel alone and _cold_, despite being tucked in under the warm covers. He turned over, thinking that it might help, but to no avail. He still couldn't seem to fall asleep; there was too much going through his head, and he soon felt the familiar feeling of tears prickling at the corners of his eyes.

He blinked furiously, and rolled over on his back, staring up at the ceiling as he tried not to cry. He didn't know how long it had been since he'd gone to bed; he had no watch, but he was sure it must've been _hours_.

Turning around in another vain attempt at finding rest, Harry swallowed back a sniffle, pulling the covers up to his chin. This was going to be a long night.

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><p>Sirius was lying on his back on the extra bed Kreacher had set up in his old room, his eyes fixed on the ceiling as sleep eluded him. It was strange, being back in a room he'd escaped over a decade ago, in a house he'd once sworn never to return to. His old room still looked the same as when he'd left it; the same posters of muggle motorcycles and bikini-clad muggle women adorned the walls, the bedding and curtains were still gryffindor scarlet and golden. Even some of his old books were still sprawled out over the desk.<p>

Everything was also covered in a thick layer of dust, and Sirius had the suspicion his parents had merely let his room be once he'd left, preferring to forget him rather than deal with what he'd left behind. He supposed he couldn't blame them, either; he knew they'd thought him to be _such_ a disappointment, getting sorted into Gryffindor, hanging with that Potter brat.

Sirius sighed. It seemed so long ago, almost like an entirely different life. So much had happened since, so much had changed. He wasn't quite sure what had happened to the rebellious teen he'd once been. He wasn't sure he'd ever be that person again. Azkaban had a way of changing its prisoners, and Sirius had been no different.

And now Harry knew everything; what had happened, where he'd been. Sirius hadn't left anything out. The boy deserved to know the truth, and Sirius was determined to not be the one to keep it from him.

Even if that meant he and Harry would be estranged from each other. Even if it meant that he might have to let Harry go back to the Dursleys; it wouldn't surprise him at all, now that the boy had learned just what kind of a person Sirius had turned out to be.

Needless to say, the man's thoughts were decidedly grim, and they were doing their best to keep him awake. Though, he had to admit, the bed helped with that, too; he just wasn't used to sleeping in something so - so _soft_. Not to mention clean and warm. A ghost of a smile passed over his lips for just a second. Who would've thought that he would ever find a bed too _soft_. He was sure Prongs, wherever he was, was laughing at him.

His thoughts returned to the prongslet again, and any semblance of smiles quickly vanished from his features. So much had gone wrong back then, when that bastard had killed James and Lily, and Sirius couldn't help but blame _himself_ for most of it; they'd changed secret keepers at _his_ insistence, thus enabling that wretched little rat to sell them to Voldemort. It was _he_ who had gone after the rat, getting himself sent to Azkaban.

If only he hadn't listened to Hagrid that night, if only he hadn't let the man convince him that doing what Dumbledore said was the best thing. If only he hadn't kept his prongslet with him; they could've been happy together, and Sirius could've raised the boy into the marauder he knew Harry was.

If only.

Sighing again, Sirius mourned the loss of possible outcomes, outcomes he'd effectively squashed the moment he'd let go of prongslet. It felt like a cruel irony, knowing that despite the fact that he had Harry now, the boy may very well want to leave - in fact, Sirius was becoming more and more certain of it, that the boy _would_ leave - after learning of Sirius many mistakes.

Resigning himself to a long and sleepless night, Sirius was surprised when he heard the door to Regulus' old room - now Harry's - open, and a soft padding of footsteps leading up to his own open door.

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><p>Staring into the darkness that was Sirius' room, Harry nervously chewed on his bottom lip, still not quite sure - not quite able to believe - what he was doing. "Padfoot?" he mumbled, straining his eyes to make out shapes of furniture in the shadows. "Are you awake?"<p>

He heard the soft rustling of sheets, and then he could make out the shape of Sirius, sitting up in his bed. "... Yeah," the man mumbled after a moment, and Harry got the suspicion that the man had slept about as much as he had.

"I-I couldn't sleep," Harry murmured, letting his eyes fall to the floor. He could feel his heart beat frantically against his ribcage, his mind reeling at his actions. What was he _doing_, disturbing his godfather like this? Uncle Vernon had _told_ him grown-ups didn't like being disturbed by weak little children. Still, there was a small, yet persistent, part of Harry that ignored the lessons beaten in by his uncle; a part of him that still dared hope, dared dream. Never mind that he was certain Sirius would be angry with him for having the nerve to go to him for something as silly as troubles sleeping. The man would probably even decide he didn't want Harry around any longer, and send him back to the Dursleys...

"Do - do you want to sleep here tonight?" Sirius suddenly asked, and Harry felt his breath catch in his throat as his heart did a painful jump. It sounded almost like something a _dad_ would say to his child. The little part of Harry that dared hope did a little victory-dance.

"If it's not too much trouble," he whispered, swallowing nervously. Surely Sirius would realize that it was, indeed, _too much trouble_ and send him back to his own room.

"Never, Prongslet," the man assured him, his voice strangely thick, full of emotions Harry couldn't quite place, and he held out his arms towards the child, silently inviting him.

Harry, heart still beating almost painfully, hurried over to the bed - almost stumbling over a chair he hadn't seen - and practically threw himself into his godfather's waiting embrace, wrapping his thin arms around the older man, holding on as if the man was going to disappear at any given moment. Harry had seen stranger things happen; he wasn't going to rule out strange vanishings.

The man seemed shocked at first, surprised at suddenly having his arms full of softly shaking child, but then he laid his arms around the child, too - gingerly at first - pulling the boy into a full embrace, feeling Harry's head fall down onto his shoulder.

He supposed it shouldn't surprise him to find the boy crying; soft, half-restrained sobs, partially muffled by Harry burying his head into Sirius shirt. "There, there," Sirius mumbled, stroking the boy's hair in an attempt to calm the boy down. It didn't quite have the effect he'd hoped, though; if anything, the boy began to cry _more_, but Sirius figured he must be doing _something_ right, because Harry clung to him almost desperately, and the former prisoner realized he had no intentions of letting the boy go, either. "It's alright, Harry," he murmured soothingly, gently rocking the boy. "Everything's going to be alright."

Gently settling them down in the bed again, Harry still plastered against him, Sirius mentally vowed to make sure that yes, everything was going to be alright, regardless of what might happen.

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><p><strong>AN**: Oh, spell-check has changed it's suggestion to Dumbledore to Redouble. I wonder what happened to Tumbledown and Battledore. And the Malformed family have gotten an addition; Narcissist Malformed, Luscious darling wife. What a splendid couple they make, Luscious and Narcissist. Also, muggle is apparently supposed to be smuggle. I think spell-check might be racist towards non-magical people. Maybe it's being controlled by Voltmeter, which was its suggestion to Voldemort.


	5. Cleaning

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I still don't own it. It would be sweet if I did, though. Maybe JK would be willing to sell it to me for some pocket lint.

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><p>Sirius glanced down at the body sprawled over him with bleary eyes, wondering for a moment just what he'd been doing the previous night. Then his brain kicked in, and his features softened into a smile as his mind provided memories from the night before. Still smiling, he gently stroked the sleeping child's hair. Maybe things had a chance of working out, anyway. Now, all he had to do was to wait for the boy to wake up.<p>

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><p><em>Running through cobbled streets he didn't recognize, <em>_Harry panted as he desperately tried to keep up with the large, black dog running in front of him. He didn't have to look behind him to know Dudley and his gang was still there, chasing him, gaining on him with every step. The dog made a sharp turn, into a shadowed alley, and Harry followed, just barely managing to stay upright. He couldn't afford falling now. He was so close._

_The dog made another turn, and Harry made to follow, but suddenly a tall__, blonde mannequin appeared, and with a lazy grin it suddenly laid its cane right in Harry's path, and he didn't have time to stop. He stumbled over the wood, and with horror he saw the ground come closer, slowly, ever so slowly, and then..._

Harry woke with a start, his heart pounding furiously against his chest. For a split second he could still see the ground coming crashing towards him, and he reflexively clamped his eyes shut, dreading the moment he'd land. He never did, of course; he was already lying down, and soon his heartbeat began to slow down to a reasonable speed.

He shifted, snuggling closer into his pillow, and immediately noticed something... strange. He certainly remembered his pillow being a lot _softer_ than this. Slowly opening his eyes, Harry turned his head upwards to find Sirius looking down at him with a small smile.

"Mornin'," the man greeted.

Harry blinked stupidly at him for a moment, and then realization dawned upon him as he remembered the previous night. His face immediately heated up with a blush, and he looked away. "Good morning," he mumbled in response, hiding his face in the man's shirt. Still, he made no attempt to move away, even though he almost held his breath in trepidation; surely Sirius would realize he didn't want a bothering little kid to handle, and take Harry back to the Dursleys. He just knew it.

"You hungry?" Sirius asked, smile still playing on his lips - even though Harry couldn't see it, what with his head buried against Sirius chest.

The boy mumbled something that sounded decidedly affirmative, accompanied by his stomach rumbling, and Sirius chuckled. "I'm famished, myself," he confessed with a grin, and began to sit up. "Luckily Kreacher should have gotten the kitchen in proper order by now, so we can eat downstairs." The '_and not go out again_' went unsaid, but Harry - who was now sitting in Sirius' lap - felt reassured, none the less. "So," the man began again, "What do you say about going down to get something to eat?"

Harry nodded, but didn't make any attempt to leave. Sirius glanced down at his godson for a second, and then, without further ado, wrapped his arms around the kid and stood up, bringing Harry with him. The boy gasped, but then quickly starfished himself around his godfather, quite unwilling to let go. Sirius chuckled, securing his grip on the boy and began making his way down the stairs, down to the kitchen.

Careful not to stumble or drop his passenger, Sirius frowned at how light the child was. Sure, he was young, but Sirius had spent seven years in _Azkaban_ and could still carry him with ease. Having the child plastered against his side like this also made him painfully aware just how _thin_ Harry was; Sirius was sure he could feel Harry's ribs, and it made his frown deepen. He would have to make sure Harry ate more, and maybe just ask the child _why_ he seemed so - so malnourished.

Surely the Dursleys couldn't have deliberately not given the boy enough food, could they? Sirius wasn't sure he wanted the answer to that question.

Finally down in the kitchen - which was quite liveable now, thanks to Kreacher's cleaning - Sirius put Harry down in one of the chairs before sitting down in the chair opposite to Harry's. He called for Kreacher - who shot suspicious glances at Harry, who'd brightened up considerably at the arrival of the house-elf - and ordered their breakfast, which they began eating in silence. At first Harry only picked at his breakfast, but after a moment hunger won over, and when it seemed no one was going to take away his food he began to stuff himself in earnest.

Sirius wasn't any different; after living on the poor excuse for food they had in Azkaban this was _heaven_, and he was damned if he wasn't going to get as much of it as possible. Kreacher, who was standing to the side, watched the two with wide eyes, horrified by their awful table-manners. What would his dear old mistress think?

Breakfast was a silent affair. Partly because they were too busy eating to speak, and partly because neither knew what to say. The food was plain, but Harry found himself devouring it hungrily.

"So, uh," Sirius began between chews, "I figured that maybe we could start cleaning the living room today," he trailed off, giving Harry a hopeful glance. He didn't technically need the kid to help him, but he figured it would be nice doing something together. And since leaving the house would risk too many troubles, he thought that maybe getting the house in shape would at least be something.

Harry nodded in silent consent, mouth too full of sandwich to answer properly. Sirius returned to the rest of his breakfast, and silence fell over the table again.

* * *

><p>To Sirius great surprise, it turned out Harry was quite the asset in the cleaning process. With frightening familiarity the boy helped his godfather get rid of the dust, move the things deemed unsalvageable to the hall, and he even helped the man clean the windows, even though he couldn't reach properly.<p>

Even though Sirius was glad of the help - and the company; cleaning the house _alone_ would've been dreadful - he couldn't help but frown as the boy obeyed his every order without question. Surely that wasn't normal for eight-year olds. Where was his fire?

Kreacher, too, was disturbed by the child's penchant for cleaning; what was the human boy up do, doing _house-elf_ work? He silently sent Sirius a dark look, as if to blame the escapee for it, and was subsequently ignored.

Lunch came, and the two agreed to take a break in favour of feasting on the sausage and mashed potatoes Kreacher had cooked up for them - even though the elf served it with more than one nasty comment under his breath - and Sirius even managed to draw a few laughs out of his godson. He'd never thought he'd find something like _cleaning_ enjoyable, but he figured having Harry there with him made the whole situation seem better.

Smiling as Harry laughed at the story he'd told about one of the many adventures he'd gotten into in school, Sirius tensed as the fire-place suddenly came alive with a burst of green flames, and out of it stepped a slender, elegant woman with ashen blonde hair pinned up in a bun. Her features were beautiful, but there was a certain coldness to her eyes.

The moment Narcissa Malfoy stepped out of the fire-place of Grimmauld Place 12, she found herself at wand-point, the one holding the wand being none other than supposed mass-murder Sirius Black. "Hello, cousin," she said with a faint smile, even though she did look a tad bit worried at having his wand merely inches away from her face.

"Narcissa," Sirius grit out. "How did you get here?"

The woman gave him a disparaging smile. "Really, Sirius," she admonished, "I may be married, but I was still raised a Black. Now," she added, ignoring his snarl, "could you please remove your wand from my face?"

Eyes narrowing dangerously, he bared his teeth at her in an almost animalistic gesture, but then he slowly lowered his arm. He didn't put away his wand, however. "What do you want, _Narcissa_?" He spit her name out as if it was a curse.

Pursing her lips in annoyance, the woman took a second to take in the state of the living room, and her eyes finally landed on Harry, who was still sitting on the couch, staring at the adults warily. Narcissa's eyes narrowed thoughtfully, and a disgusted looks passed over her elegant features at the state of the boy's clothes. "He looks quite a lot like his father, doesn't he?" she commented off-handedly as she looked back at Sirius. "Even though he doesn't seem to share James'... attitude."

"What do you want?" Sirius repeated darkly, his eyes full of suspicion.

"I heard you the first time, Sirius." She paused to cast another glance Harry's way. "Really, cousin. Muggle clothing?"

The reprimand sounded so motherly that Sirius suddenly felt as if he'd gotten caught with his hand in the cookie-jar. "Haven't had time to get him new clothes," he mumbled defensively, feeling himself fidget under her decidedly amused gaze. Then he realized what he was doing, blinked, and renewed his glare. "Why are you here?" he snapped, trying to regain his senses.

A small smile was playing on the woman's lips, and she seemed even more relaxed than before. "The Ministry has begun to realize you are no longer where they put you."

"No doubt thanks to your _husband_," Sirius spat angrily, and a faint frown of annoyance creased Narcissa's brows.

"Lucius have had nothing to do with it," she pointed out, but Sirius just gave her a suspicious glare. Narcissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "As it stands now, neither he nor I have anything to gain from getting you sent back to Azkaban."

"And what happens when you do?"

She smiled. "That remains to be seen. Now, how about a cup of tea?"

* * *

><p>Harry watched the blonde woman leave through the fire-place - which, he had to admit, had to be the coolest way to travel, ever - with mixed feelings. He'd liked her well enough, she was nice and had a pleasant voice, but her eyes had frightened him a bit; he couldn't help but feel like some object when she turned her intense gaze onto him, an object she was sizing up, trying to decide whether he met her standards or not. It was a decidedly unpleasant feeling. She'd also asked way too many - in Harry's opinion, at least - question about his life with the Dursleys, her lips curled up in distaste even with the scant information Sirius was willing to share with her.<p>

"One day I'm going to have to have a good look through the wards," the dog-man muttered off-handedly, still glaring at where Narcissa had been, "and see just who has access to this place."

Harry nodded absent-mindedly, not entirely sure what that would entail, exactly, or how it would be done, but still thinking it sounded quite reasonable. The thought that anyone could pop out of their fire-place at any given moment wasn't appealing at all.

The two shared a look, and then resumed their cleaning, Sirius telling Harry about who Narcissa was and why it was a bad idea to trust the blonde woman. Harry listened attentively, soaking up every word Sirius' told him like a sponge.

* * *

><p>Lucius had barely been home for half an hour, sitting comfortably by a desk in one of the smaller studies, when the fire-place in the living room flared, green fire sprouting out of nowhere, and his wife elegantly stepped out. Her expression was neutral, and not a hair was out of place, but Lucius had known his wife for long enough to be able to read her well.<p>

"You went to visit your runaway cousin, did you not?" he asked, not even looking up from his copy of the Daily Prophet.

Narcissa's eyes flared in response, but she didn't say anything, instead opting to gracefully sit down in the small couch that stood opposite to the desk where Lucius was sitting, letting out a small sigh as she leaned back ever so slightly. To Narcissa, this equaled throwing herself down, cursing at the skies, and Lucius could read his wife's body language perfectly.

"What's the matter, dear?" he asked, a faint line of worry creasing his forehead.

His wife sighed again. "He's lived with muggles, Lucius," she said with exasperation clear in her tone. "Muggles who, from what I could gather from that damn cousin of mine, have been treating him no better than a house-elf."

Lucius gave her a disbelieving look. "But surely even _Dumbledore_," the name was spit out like a curse, "would have made sure the boy was adequately raised? I mean, he's their bloody saviour!"

"Apparently it was he who placed the boy there," Narcissa told him, letting his foul language slip for now. She was certainly upset enough to curse, too. Though, to be honest, she would much prefer to curse _someone_, instead. "Though only Merlin knows why."

Shaking his head, Lucius put the news-paper down on the desk. "Did you find out how Black managed to get a hold of the boy?" The look she gave him almost made him dread the answer.

"From what I could gather he'd ran away from home, and happened to meet Sirius, by chance, in a park. Sirius immediately recognized him - the boy's a splitting image of his father, even at such a young age - and took him to Grimmauld Place." She let out another sigh. "Not long after that they ran into you. Now they are in the process of making that wretched house livable again."

Lucius leaned back in his chair, slowly shaking his head. "The saviour of the wizarding world, living with _muggles_. Only someone like Dumbledore could come up with that," he said, not bothering to hide his contempt. Narcissa could only nod in agreement; the mere thought was beyond preposterous.

* * *

><p>Gently pulling the covers up to Harry's chin, Sirius ruffled the boy's hair one last time, chuckling slightly as he said good night, and then left the room, slowly closing the door behind him. He began to make his way down the stairs, his feet automatically taking him to the living room as his brain occupied itself with a myriad of thoughts.<p>

Staring out the window, Sirius frowned at his faint reflection. Narcissa's visit had been worrying, but for some reason he was sure they were safe for now. He didn't think that she'd tell anyone of their whereabouts, which meant no aurors would pop out of nowhere. His frown deepened, and he got the sudden urge to take a page out of his father's book and ward the entire house so much it'd be hard for even him to get in. He even considered some of the less legal wards; anything to keep Harry safe.

Letting out a frustrated sigh, Sirius drew a hand through his tangled hair. Things would be a lot less complicated if he wasn't an escaped convict. Had he not been he could've simply demanded custody of Harry; he _knew_ James and Lily had put it in their will that _he_ was supposed to take care of Harry, but with the Ministry wanting to throw him back into Azkaban - if they'd finally found out he was gone, that is - he couldn't legally do much of anything.

The mere thought repulsed him, but he knew it would be good to have Narcissa on his side in this; not only was she married to the legal loop-hole master number one, she was a Black, and if Blacks' knew anything, it was how to survive.

His frown deepening, he silently cursed Peter Pettigrew, who Sirius was convinced was the sole cause of everything bad in the world, and then he began walking up to his room again. He knew the bed would be awfully soft and the covers too smooth, but he knew there was no sense in remaining downstairs, drowning himself in memories long since past. He had Harry to think of now, and if it meant he'd have to stoop to slytherin measures to keep him, he would damn well start thinking like a slytherin.

Sliding down into his bed, not bothering to remove his clothes, Sirius stared up at the ceiling. Just how did one think like a slytherin, anyway?

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: There, chapter five. Sorry it took a little longer than usual, but I got real life'd. The adventures of Luscious and Narcissist continues, and now they're joined by Preacher, which was spell-check's suggestion to Kreacher. Also, slytherin is apparently supposed to be blithering. Who would've thought.


	6. Revelations

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I still don't own it.

* * *

><p>The door to Sirius' room creaked open, and the man looked up to see the tiny form that was Harry standing in the doorway. The boy seemed nervous, almost hesitant. Smiling softly to himself, Sirius held his arms out, silently inviting the child. Harry let out a sigh of relief, and immediately hurried to climb into Sirius' bed, curling up beside the older man. Sirius smiled down at his godson, and then laid back down again, pulling the covers up over both of them as he settled down to sleep.<p>

* * *

><p>Living with Sirius was the strangest thing Harry had ever done, and he had seen people and houses disappear into nowhere, as well as turning into dogs. Sirius himself was strange, with enough quirks to entertain Harry for hours, but he supposed that could be explained by the man having been in prison for seven years. The house they lived in, Grimmauld Place 12, was strange, too; it was old, creaky and full of things Harry didn't dare touch - and some he wasn't even allowed near - and sometimes, when Harry laid awake at night, he was almost certain he could <em>feel<em> the house.

Still, Harry couldn't remember any other time he had been so happy, and for the first time in his life Harry actually felt as if he belonged.

It had taken them a few days, but they had finally managed to clean out the rest of the living room with just a few minor inconveniences (doxies, Harry learned, were vicious little things) and Harry had even found himself a favourite seat; and old, well-worn leather arm-chair, plush and soft enough for Harry to almost disappear if he wasn't careful. Sirius, when realizing where Harry was sitting, had chuckled and explained to Harry that the chair had used to be his father's.

"Shouldn't you sit in it, then?" Harry wondered uncertainly, but his godfather had only chuckled.

"No, no" he assured the boy, "you stay there. The irony is wonderful."

* * *

><p>Sitting in what quickly had become <em>his<em> chair, Harry happily devoured the lunch Kreacher - who still gave him strange, almost nervous looks sometimes - but then he suddenly realized with a start that he'd been with Sirius for a whole week. Blinking, he slowly put his fork and plate down on the small table. A small part of him felt as if he'd never lived anywhere else, but another, larger part of him remembered the Dursleys far too well.

Another part of him still lived in fear of the day Sirius would grow bored of him and send him back to his aunt and uncle.

The living room suddenly flashed green, and Harry looked up just in time to see a middle-aged, man in immaculate - if a bit strange, but Harry was quickly becoming used to the strange - clothes and greying hair step out of the fire-place. He seemed unfazed by the fact that he'd just travelled by _fire_, his eyes speculatively sweeping over the room.

Harry, feeling frightened, did the first thing he could think of; he yelled for his godfather. "Padfoot!"

The man from the fire-place, who hadn't seemed to have noticed Harry until now, gave the boy an almost amused look, one eyebrow raised. A second later Sirius tumbled through the door, eyes wild and wand raised.

"Who are you!" he demanded of the stranger, whom he was now holding at wand-point.

The other man seemed unbothered by the hostility. "Ah, Mr. Black," he said, and suddenly he had a card in his hand, which he held out towards a highly suspicious Sirius. "Everton," he then introduced himself, "of Everton and Greenley's."

Sirius snatched the card from the man's fingers and glanced at it, careful not to let the other man out of his view. "A solicitor?" he asked, unable to hide the surprise lining his voice.

The man named Everton smiled. "Mrs. Malfoy sent me."

If anything, it seemed to make Sirius even more suspicious. "Narcissa sent you?" The man nodded. "Why?" Sirius had slowly begun to lower his wand, but he'd made sure he was standing in between Harry and the stranger, _should_ this strange Mr. Everton try anything.

If Mr. Everton noticed anything, he seemed to pay it little heed. Instead, he went straight onto business. "Mrs. Malfoy has informed my about the child's current situation and... guardians."

The slight pause before the last word told Sirius just what the man though about muggles. He supposed that it shouldn't surprise him, though; the man had been sent by Narcissa, after all.

Mr. Everton continued. "Mrs. Malfoy also mentioned the Potters' will, and that they had named a different guardian in case of their demise."

Sirius blinked for a second. "Y-yeah," he managed to get out as the solicitor looked at him expecting an answer. "Prongs- I mean James and Lily made me Harry's godfather."

The solicitor nodded. "We shall have to take a look at that will, then. I'm certain that Gringotts will provide."

Sirius nodded, only half-following what the other man was saying, but Mr. Everton seemed to deem that enough. "Excellent," the solicitor concluded. "I will begin correspondence with the goblins as soon as possible. I believe that concludes our business for now, Mr. Black. With your permission, I shall take my leave." He bowed his head in Sirius direction, turned around, took some floo-powder from the small cup on the mantel piece, and then he was gone.

Harry, feeling that the coast was clear, slowly walked up to beside his godfather, who was staring at the fire-place.

"I have to get that thing checked," Sirius mumbled, almost absent-mindedly.

Harry nodded, starting to feel that he should just avoid the living room all together until an idea suddenly came to him. "Hey," he said, tugging on Sirius' arm, "maybe we should set up a trap."

Sirius blinked. "A trap?" he echoed, a faint smile beginning to form on his lips.

"Yeah! Like, something that activates when someone walks out of the fire-place or something..." he trailed off.

"You know what?" Sirius asked, and Harry looked up to see his godfather grinning broadly. "I think that sounds like a great idea."

* * *

><p>A Mr. Everton stepped out the fire-place in the office he shared with his companion, Mr. Greenley, having finished his business for the day. To strangers he might seem indifferent, perhaps even bored, but to those who knew him it was clear that he was pleased. Being employed by one Lucius Malfoy was hard work, but getting cases like the one Mrs. Malfoy had approached him with the other day made it all worth it.<p>

Sharing a small, pleased smile with himself, Mr. Everton sat down by his desk, pulled out a quill and some parchment, and began penning out a message to Gringotts concerning a certain Saviour of the Wizarding World.

* * *

><p>Harry was sitting in his room, reading a book Sirius had given him, when he suddenly heard a crash from downstairs, followed by a string of loud curses.<p>

A grin spread over his lips. "Padfoot!" he called. "We've caught something!"

* * *

><p>Mr. Everton stepped out the fire-place at Grimmauld Place 12 to the strangest sight. Sprawled on the ground, entangled in what looked like some sort of net, laid none other than his employer Lucius Malfoy, said man struggling against his restraints while cursing loudly and angrily.<p>

"Oh, no," a voice piped up from the doorway, and Mr. Everton looked up to see Harry Potter standing there. "Padfoot, there were two of them!"

Sirius Black appeared into view, leaning against the doorway, his eyes dancing with mirth at the scene before him. "It's okay this time, Prongslet," he said, barely able to keep the laughter out of his voice. "We've caught the biggest fish, anyway."

Still down on the ground, Lucius gave Sirius a murderous look. "Black," he said icily, "if you don't get me out of this - this _mess_ right this instance, I swear dementors will be the least of your worries."

Sirius' grin widened just a fraction, and then he looked at Harry. "What do you think, Prongslet? Should we let him out?"

Harry gave the blonde a speculative look. "I don't know," the child mumbled. "Wasn't he one of those death eater-persons?"

The look on Malfoy's face alone made Sirius wish he'd had a camera. "Yes, Harry," he said, grinning down at the gobsmacked blonde on the floor. "Yes he was."

"Black," the Malfoy patriarch said warningly, but Sirius just grinned at him.

In the end Harry took pity on their captured blonde, and with Sirius' permission helped the man to get loose from the net. Finally standing again, Lucius shot the offending net a last, murderous look before turning to Sirius, still glaring furiously. "I see your sense of humour hasn't changed since you were in school."

"Actually," Sirius countered, still grinning, "this was Prongslet's idea."

Lucius' eyes narrowed as he glanced at the boy, who was hiding behind his godfather, but he didn't comment. Instead he went straight onto business. "We have acquired the Potter's will," he said smugly, gesturing towards his lawyer, Mr. Everton, who immediately pulled out a document from his robes and handed it over to Lucius, who seemed quite intent on forgetting his little net-incident all together.

"It seemed you were quite right, Mr. Black," the solicitor said. "The Potters did make you young mister Potter's guardian. There was also mentions of a Mr. Lupin, should you, too have been... indisposed. We are in the process of contacting Mr. Lupin," the man explained, "and are expecting his response shortly."

Sirius blinked, almost surprised at the knot neatly tying his stomach painfully at the mention of Remus. He hadn't seemed to realize just how much he'd missed his old friend, despite everything that had happened. Pulling himself out of his thoughts, Sirius turned his narrowed eyes onto Lucius Malfoy.

"Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

Lucius gave him a faint smirk. "For Narcissa." A mischievous glint entered his eyes. "And to get a chance to possibly press charges against Albus Dumbledore.

He couldn't help but roll his eyes, but Sirius still appreciated the honesty. He had had enough of lies in his life.

One of the blonde's eyebrows rose. "You don't seem too bothered by it," he remarked, making Sirius shrug.

"It was Dumbledore who placed Harry with the muggles.

Lucius gave him a look, and then glanced at Harry, who was watching them curiously. "I see," he said, and then looked back at Sirius. "I'd say that concludes our business here. Everton! Let us be off."

The two men left through the fire-place, and once they were gone Harry crept up to his discarded trap. "Padfoot," he said, turning to his godfather, "we're going to need more nets."

* * *

><p>The owl was large, brown speckled with white, and it gave Harry an almost condescending look as it landed on the table after Harry had let it in through the window. It dropped its baggage - a folded up newspaper - took some of Harry's breakfast bacon, and then if flew up to perch on the chandelier.<p>

At that moment Sirius walked into the living room. He took a look at the newspaper that now laid on the table in front of Harry's plate, and then glanced up at the haughty bird. "Whose owl?"

Harry, who figured an owl delivering newspapers wasn't anything out of the ordinary, shrugged. "It didn't say."

Sirius gave his godson a look, a small smile tugging at his lips. He picked up the newspaper as he sat down opposite to Harry, but when he unfolded it his smile immediately disappeared from his face.

"What's wrong?" Harry frowned at his godfather's reaction and got up to read over the man's shoulder.

_MASS-MURDERER AT LARGE_

_Sirius Black has escaped Azkaban!_

Harry stared at the headlines covering the entire front of the newspaper, along with a picture of a younger Sirius which he assumed must've been taken when the man was imprisoned. The picture was screaming silently, and Harry was secretly glad he couldn't hear the words; the look in the man's eyes alone was enough.

"Well," Sirius said, his tone strangely dry, "it seems the ministry finally noticed I was gone." His eyes strayed to the table, where he saw a small note neither of them had previously noticed. Frowning, he picked it up, trying to place the thin, elegant hand-writing.

_I shouldn't have to tell you this, but don't leave the house._

_N._

He swallowed, his throat dry, and turned over the note, but nothing more was written. Only one name came to mind at the secretive signature, and he wasn't sure he liked it.

* * *

><p>Leaning back in the small couch, Remus Lupin, werewolf and resident of a small village in Romania since two years back, frowned as he unfolded his newspaper, which he had delivered to him from Britain. He didn't have time to read the article, however, for an owl suddenly pecked on one of the tiny windows of his cabin, and he begrudgingly put the newspaper down on the table.<p>

The owl itself was a barn owl, and the message it carried was neat, but still looked very... exclusive.

Remus frowned, not being able to think of anyone who'd send him anything, let alone such a fancy looking letter. The return address on the envelope didn't do much to clarify the situation, and Remus was certain he'd never heard of a Mr. Everton before.

Figuring he might as well open it, he began to doubt his decision as he read through the letter, his eyes widening with each word. As he read the final line, he slumped back down into his couch, feeling a headache coming on from all the carefully suppressed memories suddenly resurfacing. The implications of the letter where almost too horrible to think of.

He glanced towards the newspaper lying forgotten on his table, and silently wondered to himself why he'd even bothered getting out of bed.

* * *

><p>After skimming through the article, Sirius had thrown the newspaper into wall before slumping down on the couch, his head in his hands. Harry could see the man was shaking, but he didn't know what to do. Deciding it was worth the risk, he slowly sat down beside the man, careful to keep a distance at first, but then, when Sirius didn't react, he leaned into his side, desperately trying to come up with some way to cheer his godfather up.<p>

He seemed to have done something right, because suddenly Sirius put his arm around Harry's shoulder, pulling the child closer, resting his chin on the top of Harry's head. "We're going to be okay," he mumbled, and Harry wasn't sure which of them Sirius was trying to reassure.

The fire-place lit up, green light flashing through the room, and the two of them looked up to see an elderly man in well-worn but expensive robes step out. Sirius took one look at the man, his eyes widening, and then he was suddenly standing, wand in hand, glaring at the new arrival.

"What are you doing here?" he spat, and the traces of Azkaban was clear in his eyes.

The man smirked, and he fixed his dark grey eyes on Sirius. "Really, now, is that a way to treat your elders?" he said. "I thought your mother raised you better than that."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: There. Spell-check continues to amuse me; Gringotts is apparently supposed to be Gringos, and Wizarding should be Rewarding. Or how about some fool-powder? Let us travel by fool to the Rewarding bank Gringos! And I bet _no one_ can guess who the mystery person at the end is. Really.


	7. Family

**Disclaimer**: I am secretly JK Rowling, and all of this is mine. Mine, I tell you! (No, it isn't - I'm just lying.)

* * *

><p>Frowning, Narcissa watched as their owl flew off with the newspaper. "I hope Sirius realizes the gravity of the situation and does as he's told," she muttered to her husband, who rolled his eyes.<p>

"Oh please," Lucius sneered over his breakfast tea, "since when has Black ever done what he was told?"

Narcissa shot her husband a disparaging look, but didn't bother with contradicting him; Sirius was, after all, quite notorious for not following the rules. "Perhaps he will be more cautious with Harry there. Draco, darling, don't chew with your mouth open."

Draco, who'd been listening in on his parents, immediately shut his mouth.

Lucius gave his wife a knowing look. "Love, that boy is just as bad as his godfather and father. It wouldn't surprise me if the two of them are out, doing whatever it is gryffindors do to pass time."

Pursing her lips, Narcissa sent a sly look in her husband's direction. "You're just cross they managed to get the upper hand of you, darling."

Scowling at his wife, Lucius huffed and returned to his breakfast, determined not to dignify that comment with an answer. This, of course, only made Narcissa smile, knowing that she'd won over her husband this time.

Draco, who was making an effort to chew with his mouth close so his mother wouldn't reprimand him again, stared between his parents. Someone getting the upper hand of his father? Hah, he snorted in his mind. Impossible.

"Draco, darling, your sandwich is about to lose its jam."

Realizing with a horrified start that his mother was right and that the jam was, indeed, on its way to drop down on his pants, Draco immediately hurried to set it down on his plate, eager to halt the impending doom that would've been ruining his trousers.

After shooting his son an approving look, Lucius turned back to his wife. "Was it really a wise choice to help him? He is a convicted murderer, and it could be possibly devastating should the Minister get knowledge of this."

Taking a sip of her tea, Narcissa carefully set down the cup on the table before looking at her husband with a frown. "There's something about that story that just doesn't add up," she said thoughtfully. "Doesn't it strike you as odd that Sirius of all people would end up killing a dozen muggles?"

"Darling," Lucius countered, "the man _is_ crazy."

Narcissa's frown deepened, the woman still not convinced. "Only because Azkaban has made him so. I do not remember him acting anything like that before, and there was never even a hint that he would turn out to be one of the most feared criminals in our time. They even say he was a follower of Lord Voldemort."

Following his wife's train of thought, Lucius began to frown, too. "It _is_ a bit odd, yes. But really, darling, everyone has secrets." He gave her a pointed look, which she had no problems interpreting; they knew a lot about keeping secrets, after all.

Still, she shook her head. "I would think that you of all people should know if Sirius had _that_ particular secret, no?"

Lucius opened his mouth to contradict his wife's insinuation, but he knew before he even managed to utter a sound that it would be a hopeless campaign; she was quite right. He sighed despondently. "You think he was framed, then?"

She pursed her lips. "It's a possibility, yes. Grief could also be a factor; it happened just a day after the Potter's died, did it not?"

"Barely even that," Lucius confirmed. "He was sent to Azkaban two days later."

Narcissa nodded. "Without a trial, too, if my memory serves me correctly." She frowned again. "There's something that just doesn't add up. Why did he kill Pettigrew of all people? I distinctly remember them being friends in school."

"Perhaps he had been driven mad by grief? Such things does happen."

"Hm. Maybe." Narcissa didn't sound too convinced.

Lucius sighed. "If you want I could pull out the files from the investigation. No one's going to question it, what with Black being on the loose."

Narcissa gave her husband a thankful smile. "That would be lovely, dear, thank you."

Slowly shaking his head, Lucius returned to his breakfast, the suspicion that that was what Narcissa had been wanting all along gnawing at the back of his mind.

* * *

><p>Thoughts spinning madly around his head, Remus couldn't quite say he knew what he was doing. The parchment lying before him was empty so far, the quill resting in his hand inkless. He shouldn't do this. He had no reason to do this. He left England long ago, there was no reason tearing up old wounds. He had a life here. He had no reason to go back.<p>

Sighing, he leaned back in his chair, massaging his temples to deter the oncoming headache. Why did things have to be so complicated? Why couldn't they just leave him alone? He glared at the parchment. This was a stupid idea. He had no reason to go back there. Harry deserved a better guardian than him.

Remus sighed again and sat up straight in his chair. There were so many memories he'd tried to forget, so many thoughts he didn't want to think. Still, he dipped the quill in the ink-bottle, and slowly - all while second guessing and doubting himself - began to pen out a reply to one Mr. Everton of Everton and Greenley's on the subject Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>"I thought your mother raised you better than that."<p>

Harry, hiding behind Sirius, stared at the stranger, feeling more than a little frightened. Sirius hadn't reacted quite this strongly to any of their other surprise visitors, but for some reason Harry got the feeling that his godfather knew this particular stranger a lot better than the other ones.

Glaring angrily, Sirius growled at the man's remark. "My mother also taught me how a Black deals with unwanted intruders. Are you suggesting I should listen to her?"

The elderly man sighed. "You always were such an impetuous child," he murmured, shaking his head. "By Merlin, Sirius, lower your wand. I'm not going to attack you."

Sirius didn't lower his wand. "Why are you here?" he demanded, still glaring angrily.

"Do I need a reason to visit my fugitive grandson?"

Unable to stop himself, Harry gasped at the revelation. This man was related to Sirius? Said man glanced down at Harry as if only noticing him now, and his eyebrows knitted in confusion.

"A child, Sirius?" he asked, turning back to the wild-eyed escapee. "Pray tell why, exactly, you have a child here."

Growling, Sirius stepped in front of Harry, shielding him from the stranger's view. "That's no business of yours, Pollux," he spat, his knuckles turning white from the tight grip he had on his wand.

Harry, who was now outright afraid, stared between his godfather and the stranger. "Padfoot, who _is_ he?" he whispered, eyes wide, voice shaky.

Sirius didn't take his eyes off the man. "Pollux Black," he explained, letting Harry plaster himself to his legs. "My mother's father."

* * *

><p>That night Harry didn't even bother to go to his own room when it was time to sleep. After having climbed all the stair-cases, he quietly snuck into his godfather's room, a worried frown etched onto his features. Padfoot was still sitting on the bed, as he had been for the last few hours - ever since the stranger who was his grandfather had left - and Harry could see how the dinner-plate he'd asked Kreacher to deliver was practically untouched.<p>

"Padfoot?" he mumbled, still standing in the doorway, but the man didn't react. Chewing on his bottom lip, Harry's frown deepened as he tried to make up his mind on what to do. It sure seemed like Padfoot had wanted to be alone, but quite frankly it broke his little heart to see the man he'd gotten used to living with looking so... lost. Swallowing nervously, Harry made up his mind, and slowly began to walk up to the bed. In a moment of boldness, he then promptly crawled up in Sirius' lap, leaning his head against the man's shoulder.

It immediately got a reaction; at first the man gasped, then he sighed, gently putting his arms around the boy. "I'm sorry, Prongslet," he mumbled, resting his chin on the top of the child's head. "Things have just been... hectic today." A humourless chuckle left his lips, and Harry could feel his godfather's chest reverberate.

"It's okay, Padfoot," the child mumbled, snuggling closer to the warmth. "Everything's going to be okay, right?"

Sirius chuckled again, this time more heartfelt, and gently stroked the child's hair. "I'm sure it will, Prongslet." He hugged the child closer to him. "I'm sure it will."

* * *

><p>Breakfast the next morning was a subdued affair, both Sirius and Harry waking early, neither able to fall asleep again. Kreacher served them breakfast in the kitchen for once, the little house-elf obviously bothered by the gloomy atmosphere, but, being a house-elf, he didn't quite know what to do. So, he served them their food, and then he stayed in the kitchen, wringing his hands as he watched his two humans pick at their food.<p>

Considering his master and the child, Kreacher was thoroughly confused. He knew his dear old mistress would be quite cross with him if she found out, but he couldn't quite find it in him to feel cross at Master Sirius, despite knowing that he should be. The child was even worse; how could he be cross with something so clearly malnourished? The house-elf frowned at the child, and mentally made a note to give him a little more lunch than usual later.

Harry and Sirius finished their food - barely - but neither of them were eager to leave the kitchen; the only other liveable rooms in the house were their bedrooms and the living room, and the living room was clearly out of the picture. They had no interest in dealing with visitors today.

Unfortunately, visitors seemed to have interests in dealing with them, for suddenly the door to the kitchen opened, and all three - Harry, Sirius and Kreacher - turned around to see none other than Narcissa Malfoy walk in, her nose scrunched up as if she smelled something foul.

"This house is a mess," she muttered, more to herself than anything. "Kreacher! Get me some tea."

Stumbling over his "Of course, Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy Madam," the house-elf immediately set to fulfill her orders.

Not waiting for an invitation, the blonde woman then sat down by the table, seemingly unbothered by the looks the two males were sending her. She turned to Sirius, one eyebrow raised. "What's the matter with you?" she asked. "You look like you've been stampeded by a pack of hippogriffs."

If he was surprised by the odd analogy - Harry suddenly remembered Sirius had never told what a hippogriff was - Sirius didn't show it. "Pollux showed up," he explained, expression sullen, tone weary.

Narcissa gave him an arched look, and calmly sipped at the cup of tea Kreacher had placed before her. "What did the old man want?" She made an effort to keep most of her curiosity out of her voice.

Sirius shrugged. "He didn't really say." He thought for a second. "I didn't really let him say, either."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "Sirius, what did you do?"

Despite his glumness, Sirius managed to look at least a little sheepish. "I may have sort of hexed him until he left."

"You may have?"

"Well, yes, sort of."

"Sirius..." Narcissa said with exasperation, shaking her head. "This means he _knows_. What if he decides to report you to the ministry?"

Sirius snorted, giving his cousin a contemplative look. "You've been a Malfoy for too long, it seems," he commented off-handedly. "He won't rat out on family, no matter what."

Narcissa realized with a start that he was right. It was not a pleasant realization; the silent hint that perhaps she wasn't a Black anymore cut deeper than she thought it would have. Perhaps she really had become a Malfoy. Shaking the surprisingly unpleasant thought away, she decided to change topic entirely; there was something that had bothered her for a while... "Sirius," she asked, fixing him with an intense stare, "were you framed?"

Sirius, who had been drinking from his glass at the time, sprayed water all over the table, coughing and spluttering. Harry couldn't help but giggle at the sight. "Merlin, woman," the convict muttered, shooting her a glare. "Can't you warn a fellow?"

Something akin to disgusted amusement playing on her features, Narcissa gave him a haughty look. "It's not my fault you can't drink properly. And you haven't answered my question."

Giving her a nasty look, Sirius cleaned up the mess he'd made with a flick of his wand, and then leaned back in his chair, turning his grey eyes to Narcissa. "Yes," he admitted, "I was."

Narcissa nodded. "I thought as much."

Suspicion written all over his face, Sirius narrowed his eyes at her. "How come?" he asked, his tone deceptively even.

The woman smiled. "Despite everything, I _know_ you, Sirius; I grew up with you. You've never quite had it in you to do something like that."

Despite the whole situation, Sirius suddenly chuckled. "Oh, 'Cissa," he said, "you have no idea what I'm capable of."

* * *

><p>Cassiopeia Black, a member of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, stepped out the fire-place at her brother's house, her eyebrows raising in surprise as she laid her eyes onto her cousin. "Arcturus," she said with surprised. "I did not expect to see you here."<p>

The elderly wizard smiled crookedly at her. "It seems Pollux have something important to share, dear cousin."

Cassiopeia's eyes narrowed just a fraction. "It would seem so, yes," she agreed haughtily, giving him a superior look down her nose.

Arcturus only chuckled at her antics. "I have missed you, dear cousin," he said with his crooked smile, and then held out his arm towards me. "Now, why don't you and I go see what your dear brother has cooked up this time, hm?"

The elderly woman took his offered arm, a small smile tugging at her lips - she did so enjoy her little banters with her cousin - and then they both went deeper into the house in the search of Pollux Black, cousin and brother, both secretly curious about what the man wanted to share with them.

They found him in his study, half-hidden by a pile of books piled on his desk, seemingly occupied with a large, dusty tome. His eyes were narrowed in concentration as he skimmed through the pages. Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at her brother and sat down in one of the couches in the study. Arcturus remained standing, eyes full of amusement as he smiled crookedly.

"You should have been in Ravenclaw, my dear cousin," he teased, and it got the desired effect.

"Don't blaspheme, Artie," Pollux replied with a glare, finally looking up from his book.

Arcturus only smiled his crooked smile, grey eyes dancing with amusement.

"What is it you want this time, Pollux?" Cassiopeia asked, patience wearing thin. "If this is another one of your experiments, I swear I am going to hex you into the next century."

Pollux looked a tad bit hurt. "Really, Cassie. The last time was just an accident; I didn't _mean_ for your hair to turn purple."

"Just get on with it, cousin," a still smiling Arcturus injected before the siblings could get started, "before dear Cassie starts hexing you."

Deciding that his cousin was most likely right, Pollux immediately turned to business. "I went over to Grimmauld Place yesterday," he began, secretly pleased how he had their complete attention before he'd even gotten to the good parts, "and I'm sure both of you can guess whom I found there."

Cassiopeia's eyes narrowed. "Surely Sirius wouldn't have returned there? The brat hates the place."

Pollux shrugged. "He must've realized it was the safest place."

"And no one would expect him to be there," Arcturus added thoughtfully.

"Exactly," Pollux continued, "but here's the real thing; _he wasn't alone_." The elderly wizard was secretly quite gleeful as he watched his sister and cousin's surprised faces.

"But who could've been with him? He isn't known to have had any accomplices."

Cassiopeia glared at her brother's smug grin. "Out with it, Pollux, or I start hexing things."

Decided that he had waiting enough - and not eager to be the target of one of Cassie's hexes - Pollux grinned at his visitors. "It was a young child," he began, "and I have reasons to believe it was none other than the Saviour of the Wizarding world, Harry Potter."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Woohoo, another chapter. This time Luscious and Narcissist gets an addition to their family with little Draconian, which really doesn't sound half bad. A bit pompous, perhaps, other than that it's quite okay. Pollux wasn't as fortunate, however; spell-check wanted to change him to Pollute, and Cassiopeia's nickname should apparently be Lassie. Though I'm sure she'd make a terrible rescue-dog.


	8. Of Rats and Relatives

**Disclaimer**: Haven't we been through this already?

* * *

><p>Mr. Everton walked into the leaky cauldron from Diagon Alley, robes impeccable and not a hair out of place - he did have an image to uphold, after all, considering whom he worked for - and let his eyes sweep over the shabby pub, searching for a certain Remus Lupin. After a few seconds of searching he located the man sitting in a far corner of the room, his back against the wall, looking as if he was sleeping. Mr. Everton came closer he realized that the man was, in fact, not sleeping; his half-lidded eyes were fixed on Mr. Everton as he came closer, the amber depths guarded and wary.<p>

"Mr. Lupin," the solicitor greeted. "May I sit down?" This close Mr. Everton took the chance to observe the other man, eyes sweeping over old, patched robes and greying hair, belying his age. There was something harmless about his posture, as if he was nothing more than an ageing man, but his eyes - full of suspicion - gave him away. Mr. Everton had spent too much time around certain men to be fooled by Mr. Lupin's apparent attempt to appear safe.

The rugged man made a gesture towards the opposite chair with his arm. "Be my guest." The gesture appeared warm and friendly, but something in the man's tone suggested it was not, and Mr. Everton sat down with utmost care.

Remus watched the solicitor, feeling a faint line crease his forehead as his brows furrowed. Even now he was second guessing his decisions, wondering if maybe he just should leave, go back to Romania, or perhaps even go somewhere else, and leave all of this behind again. He had no reason to make things unnecessary complicated. Still, something - selfishness, perhaps - kept him seated, calmly watching this solicitor who claimed Harry was in trouble.

* * *

><p>Lucius gave his wife an incredulous look. "Let me get this straight, love," he began, "you're telling me that Black was, indeed, framed, and by none other than Peter Pettigrew?" Watching Narcissa nod, the blonde man shook his head. "Narcissa, darling, Pettigrew is <em>dead<em>. They even found parts of him after the explosion."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed, and Lucius recognized the look she gave him all too well. "They found a finger," she corrected him, "a finger which Pettigrew cut off himself, before turning himself into a rat and escaping, leaving Sirius at the scene."

"A rat? But Pettigrew isn't listed as an animagus; he never was. Black is just crazy."

The victorious smile playing on Narcissa's lips almost made Lucius fear what she was about to say. It never boded well for anyone when she had that look. "Then I suppose you must've imagined things when Sirius changed from a dog, then," she pointed out, that infuriating little smile still on her lips, and Lucius realized he was losing the argument.

"But surely _someone_ must've known about it," he protested quite meekly, more for the sake of it rather than actual conviction.

Narcissa shrugged. "I'm sure their little group of friends knew, perhaps even Potter's wife, but other than that, I doubt anyone had a clue."

Lucius raised an eyebrow. "Not even Dumbledore? I thought they told that twinkling old bastard _everything_."

"Obviously not," Narcissa countered, giving him a look. "Though if he did, wouldn't that be an interesting detail in the case of Albus Dumbledore?"

Taking in his wife's smirk, Lucius could see the possibilities of her implications. Oh, what a field day his lawyers would have if it turned out to be true.

* * *

><p>"You okay there, Prongslet?"<p>

Harry, lying tucked down in his bed, looked up to see Sirius head in the doorway, and he smiled up at the man. "Yeah," he assured his godfather, shuffling to the side to give the man space to sit.

Sirius smiled down at the kid, ruffling his hair affectionately. "How about we get started on the second floor bedrooms tomorrow? They should be safe enough, I think." At least he hoped they were. Though really, considering his mother, there was no way to be sure of that. The mere thought was enough to make him shiver unpleasantly.

"Padfoot," Harry asked after a few moments, pulling Sirius out of his thoughts, "was it really good telling N-Narcissa everything?" He stumbled on the name, still not being entirely sure about the blonde woman. She was pretty and nice and everything, but she still reminded him a bit of his aunt.

Sighing, Sirius let his hands fall to his lap. "I don't know, Prongslet," he admitted, a faint frown creasing his brows. "Perhaps it wasn't. But I think - or, well, hope - that she is still enough of a Black to at least not rat us out."

Harry frowned. "What does her being a Black have to do with anything?" he wondered curiously, certain that he remembered the blonde woman's surname to be Malfoy.

Sirius let out a humourless chuckle. "Funny thing, that," he muttered, his eyes dark. "The Black is a very old family, you see," he began explaining to the child who was paying rapt attention, "and everyone born into it get taught at a very young age that the family is above everything else; we're taught to help out family members, no matter what."

"Even if it means you have to do something wrong?"

Smiling sadly, Sirius looked up at his godson, who was looking at him with large eyes. "Yes, Harry, even if it meant doing something that is wrong. Which is why Narcissa came here in the first place, I think; she may have married that bastard Malfoy, but she was still raised a Black."

The child frowned, and there was obviously something that bothered him. "But why didn't anyone help you when you got sent to prison, then?" he asked, brows furrowed and large green eyes full of confusion and just a small hint of a child's anger at an injustice.

Sirius sighed. "I left when I was sixteen, wanting nothing to do with them" he explained, mind full of memories, "and my mother and father subsequently removed me from the family tree." The man sighed again, closing his eyes for just a moment as he let old memories wash over him. When he opened his eyes again he turned towards the child, giving him a small smile. "Later, when I was in Azkaban, I think my mother restored me as her heir, realizing she had no others left." To his surprise the thought of his long dead brother still elicited a sting of pain.

Shrugging his solemn thoughts away, Sirius turned towards his godson with a smile. "Anyway, it's time for you to sleep, now," he said, chuckling at the child's disappointed groan. "I'll see you tomorrow," Sirius assured, moving to leave the room. In the doorway he turned again, smiling down at the tucked in child. "G'night, Prongslet."

The child muttered a good night in return, shuffling around to make himself more comfortable, and Sirius left the room with a chuckle, gently closing the door. Neither had felt the need to mention that Harry wouldn't stay in his own bed, and when Sirius slowly walked into his room, he left the door open.

* * *

><p>The next morning they quickly ate their breakfast, and then began working on one of the second story bedrooms, Sirius sorting out all the questionable objects by throwing them out in the hall, while Harry watched, waiting for his chance to help. By lunch the room could almost be considered safe - even though the furniture where in a disarray from their search of dark objects - and the two went down to the living room where Kreacher had served them lunch.<p>

"Thanks, Kreacher," Harry said happily as he dug into his food, completely oblivious about Kreacher's reaction; the poor elf nearly fainted.

Sirius, seeing potential for a laugh, grinned. "Yeah, thank you, Kreacher."

Now the elf visibly flinched, turning his tennis-ball eyes onto Sirius, suspicion and confusion written clear over his features. His humans were strange, indeed, he thought, shaking his head as he apparated away, leaving the two to eat their lunch in peace.

Chuckling at the surprised elf, Sirius was just about to take a bite of his delicious food when the fire-place suddenly flashed green, announcing yet another arrival. Fork still in hand, Sirius stared at it thoughtfully, entertaining the notion of ignoring whoever it was who had arrived in favour of simply eating his food. It was a tempting thought, indeed.

Still, curiosity won over in the end, and he slowly laid his fork down by his plate as he turned his eyes towards the fire-place. "Hello, 'Cissa," he greeted grumpily, meeting the woman's amused gaze.

"Sirius," she greeted, a faint tone of mirth lining her voice. The fire-place behind her flared green again, and Mr. Everton, the solicitor, stepped out.

Sirius sighed. "You couldn't have waited 'til _after_ lunch, could you?" he asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

Narcissa smiled at her cousin. "Now where's the fun in that?"

Sighing again, the convict slowly shook his head, silently resigning to the fact that he would most likely not be able to enjoy his lunch today. He glanced over at Harry, but the child was too busy stuffing his face, casting wary glances at Narcissa ever so often, almost as if he was afraid she'd take his plate away. A faint frown creased his brows, and Sirius wondered just why Harry seemed so afraid he wouldn't get to eat.

Narcissa watched the child hurriedly devour hi lunch with a mixture of disgust and worry; the way the boy practically threw the food into his mouth was appalling, but there was a hurried worry shining in his eyes, almost as if he was afraid she was going to take his food. He reminded her very much of a stray dog, and she couldn't help but wonder what had made him like this. Surely those muggles couldn't be _that_ awful, could they?

"There's no need to rush, Harry, dear," she said, feeling the mother in her take charge. "Business can wait until after lunch, after all," she added with a small smile as she sat down on the couch next to her cousin, who was staring at her with his mouth hanging open. "Sirius," she admonished, still sounding quite motherly, "you'll catch flies like that."

Snapping his mouth shut, Sirius muttered something unsavoury under his breath before turning back to his food, intent to make her hold to her words. Harry stared at Narcissa, and then glanced at Sirius almost as if to make sure everything was in order, before he resumed his eating, only slightly slower than before. The woman might change her mind, after all.

Half-way through the lunch - though Harry was practically finished, having eaten a lot faster than Sirius, who was intent on enjoying his food as much as possible - the fire-place flared yet again, and Sirius groaned loudly as Pollux Black stepped out into the living room. Harry, who was finished with his food, considered hiding behind the couch or something.

"Narcissa!" the elderly man exclaimed in surprise. "I did not expect to meet you here."

The woman smiled at her grandfather. "Nor I you, dear Pollux," she countered, and then made a gesture towards the place next to her on the couch. "Please, do have a seat and a cup of tea."

Glaring at the two, Sirius momentarily entertained the thought of stabbing Narcissa with his fork. It would certainly be worth the satisfaction, even though he doubted the consequences would be pleasant. Grumbling as Pollux sat down on the couch, he called for Kreacher, who appeared instantly with a pop.

"What can Kreacher be doing for you, Mr. Ungrateful Runaway Sir?"Kreacher still wasn't all too comfortable with taking orders from Sirius.

Ignoring the elf's slightly insulting name for him, Sirius glared hotly at his unwanted visitors. "Would you please get 'Cissa and the old bastard some tea so they'll leave me alone?"

The house-elf nodded eagerly. "Tea for Mrs. Cissa and Mr. Bastard, yes sir, Kreacher will see to it," he said rapidly, and then popped out of view again, leaving a stunned silence behind, with both Narcissa and Pollux glaring at Sirius, who could barely contain his grin.

A few moments later the elf popped back into the room, carrying a tray with a tray of cookies, a tea-kettle and a pair of cups, which he set out in front of Narcissa and Pollux and poured them their tea. "Tea for Mrs. Cissa and Mr. Bastard," he mumbled, almost to himself, and then he took the tray of cookies and put them in front of Harry, "and cookies for the Harry Potter boy, Sir." He then popped out of the room again, barely leaving Harry time to mutter out a surprised thank you.

Narcissa stared at where the house-elf had been, and then turned her narrowed eyes onto Sirius. "Explain," she demanded.

Sirius shrugged. "He likes Harry," he said, taking another bite of his delicious food. In all honesty he, too, was a bit surprised at the house-elf's strange behaviour, but he was perfectly willing to let it all slide off as the elf being mental. That he liked to feed Harry was just a bonus, really.

Pollux, who had watched the whole ordeal with concealed interest - he had been _right_ about the child's identity! - smiled and shook his head at his grandchildren. He could barely wait until he got to tell Cassiopeia and Arcturus!

* * *

><p>Pollux and Narcissa - and her solicitor - stayed well into the afternoon, drinking tea and grilling Sirius for details about pretty much <em>everything<em>. Narcissa even told Sirius they had been in touch - and even met - with a certain Remus Lupin, but Sirius, feeling an all too familiar pang of pain and a flood of unwanted memories, had quickly changed the topic. At some point during the afternoon Harry had ended up in Sirius' lap, and was now half-dosing against his godfather's chest as he tried to pay attention to all the conversation going on around him.

Sirius, having put an arm around the child's waist to keep him steady, raised his eyebrows at the look Narcissa was giving him. The woman smiled, but didn't comment as her eyes strayed to Harry again.

"Well," Pollux suddenly said, watching his grandson speculatively, "I'd say we've overstayed our welcome."

Sirius muttered an, "Oh, really?" under his breath, but was ignored.

"Narcissa, dear," the old man continued as he rose from the couch and held out a hand towards the blonde woman.

The woman smiled and accepted the offered hand, gracefully pulling herself up from the couch. "Quite so, dear Pollux," she agreed, and then turned towards Sirius. "Fare well, dear cousin," she said with a small smile. "And to you, too, dear Harry."

Blushing at being so directly addressed, Harry mumbled out a small, "Bye," half-burying his face against Sirius chest.

Pollux watched them with far too much interest, in Sirius' opinion, but for once he kept quiet, eager to have the visitors on their way. The elderly wizard narrowed his eyes, guessing Sirius' train of thought, and then turned towards the fire-place.

"After you, my dear," he told Narcissa, who smiled in return, mumbled a last good-bye, and then she and Mr. Everton were gone.

Pollux made a move to follow them, but then turned around, turning his dark eyes onto Sirius. "Don't do anything stupid now, boy," he warned his grandson. "It wouldn't do if you were sent back to Azkaban, now would it?" The look he sent in Harry's direction spoke volumes, and Sirius glared darkly at the old man.

"Just get out of here," he snapped, ignoring how Pollux laughed just before he went through the floo.

Sirius sighed, suddenly feeling himself relax - he hadn't even known he'd been so tense - and lean back into the couch. "When this is over," he mumbled, gently stroking Harry's hair, "we're going to take a nice, long vacation."

Harry couldn't have agreed more.

* * *

><p>Walking through the Ministry, on his way to lunch with the Minister, Lucius Malfoy groaned as he laid eyes on a sea of red hair right where he had to walk through. Oh, great, he thought darkly, <em>Weasleys<em>. Just what he needed - not. Making sure to put on his most arrogant, snobbish look, the aristocrat slowly began to make the dreaded trek through an ocean of red hair and freckles, his nose scrunching up as if he smelled something foul.

"Ah, Arthur Weasley," he greeted coolly, giving the thin-haired man a clearly superior look. "Was there not enough room back in that shack you call a home?" he questioned, letting his eyes sweep over the cluster of children, all of whom were practically glaring at him.

"Lucius," the Weasley patriarch greeted through gritted teeth, but to Lucius dismay he refused to rise to the bait. Ah, well, one can't succeed all times.

Lucius let his eyes sweep over the gaggle of redheads one last time, and as his eyes fell onto one of the younger boys he noticed a rat on the child's shoulder; a mangy, filthy little thing, that, which he noticed for some strange reason, seemed to be missing a toe on its right paw. Shrugging this strange observation off, Lucius continued through the Ministry, and it was only as he rounded a corner he realized with a start _why_ he'd noticed it.

Oh dear. No, but surely it couldn't be; it was too much of a coincidence. It simply _couldn't_ be the same rat Black had been talking about. Could it? Realizing his wife would throw him out of the bedroom if she found out he might have let such a golden chance pass by, Lucius increased his step, thoughts running wild as he tried to come up with a plausible plan to get a hold of that rat.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: The dreaded magnanimous Peter Pettifog haunts the mind of dear Luscious Malformed while his wife is off drinking tea with Pollute Black. Where's the world coming to? Spell-check also thought Remus should be Emus, and the headmaster at Hogwarts is apparently named Aldus Tumbledown. Changing Diagon Alley into Dragon Alley does sound kind of cool, though.  
>Anyway, thank you so much to everyone who've reviewadded it to their favourites/added it to their alerts/smashed it with a hammer. I start giggling like a little girl every time I get an email about it, and promptly go and annoy my friends about it.


	9. Realizations

**Disclaimer**: Still not mine. Strange, right?

* * *

><p>Pollux glared hotly at the message from the Ministry in his hand. "Damn sneaky little gits," he muttered under his breath as he rose from his desk. He threw some floo-powder into the fire-place, called out his destination, and seconds later he stepped out into his sister's residence. "Cassie!" he called impatiently, already on his way towards the drawing room. "Cassie, are you there?"<p>

Cassiopeia appeared in a door-way, brows furrowed and eyes glaring. "I heard you the first time, you idiot," she snapped. "What do you want?"

Ignoring his sister's temper, he threw the Ministry-note at her. "Those disgusting little creeps at that ridiculous place the call a Ministry have apparently thought themselves having the rights to place a trace on the Grimmauld floo," he explained, genuinely upset at the audacity of those lowly little maggots.

Reading the note, which was explaining that a Ministry-worker would want a word with Pollux about the sudden increase in floo-traffic to Grimmauld Place 12 , Cassiopeia made a disgusted grimace. "It's no wonder," she sneered, "what with that muggle-loving Dumbledore holding the strings of the puppet that is our Minister."

"But what are we supposed to do?" Pollux snapped, having begun to pace back and forth. "They are going to want to visit the place, and what do you think they will make of the state of the place?"

Cassiopeia frowned. "What do you mean?" she demanded of her brother.

Pollux shrugged. "Sirius and the child have been cleaning the place up," he explained. "The living room is practically bearable, and I suspect the kitchen and at least one bedroom are, as well. It's obvious someone is living there, and not even the Ministry is stupid enough not to connect the dots, what with Sirius being escaped from Azkaban and all."

Frowning, Cassiopeia glared at the note still in her hand. This could certainly prove to be difficult; if Sirius was re-captured now, the chance that he'd ever leave Azkaban again was non-existent at best. "Wait," she suddenly mumbled, an idea coming to her. "Blame it on me."

Pollux stared. "Excuse me?"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Blame the traffic on me. Tell them I'm in the process of getting the place back together or something. It _is_ our ancestral home, after all, and I'd say it needs to be cleaned up."

Nodding, Pollux began to smile. The idea certainly held some merit; few would be willing to argue with Cassiopeia about a reason like that, and with hiring a few persons to help with the cleaning it would even seem believable. There was only one catch... "Where will Sirius and the child stay, then?" he asked. "They can under no circumstances be found in Grimmauld Place."

Cassiopeia gave her brother an arched look. "Dear brother, I am not stupid. We'll simply have them come over to me or Arcturus the day the Ministry comes to inspect, and no one will suspect a thing."

Now grinning, Pollux felt himself relax. The idea was a bit crazy, but with a little work they would be able to pull it off quite easily, and the thought of fooling the Ministry like this did sound like quite an entertaining idea.

* * *

><p>Standing half hidden behind Sirius' legs, Harry carefully looked up at the elderly wizard, the one who was Sirius' grandfather, who'd appeared in the fire-place just a few minutes ago. He'd told Sirius how some people at the Ministry - Harry wasn't sure what that was, but he didn't like the sound of it - had picked up on everyone going in and out of Grimmauld Place, and that they wanted to inspect the place.<p>

Of course, Sirius had immediately been worried; he couldn't afford getting caught now, there was too much to lose, too much at stake. "What are we going to do about it?" he asked Pollux, eyes hard. He was not going to mess this up.

The elderly wizard smiled. "Me and your great-aunt have already begun planning a diversion," he divulged. "She is going to hire some people to start getting this place cleaned up - just for show, of course - and to give us a cover for using the floo."

Sirius nodded, seeing the merit in the idea. No one would question if Cassiopeia suddenly decided to clean up her ancestral home. "But what about me and Pr-Harry?" he wondered.

"Someone from the Ministry will want to come inspect," Pollux admitted, "and to make sure you're not here, which means the day they do, you and the boy will have to be somewhere else." He glanced at Harry. "I suggest you go to different places; that way it will be harder to catch you."

Harry's heart suddenly stopped in his chest. He and Sirius was going to have to - to separate? To go to different places? He could feel the fear build up inside of him; what if this meant he would have to leave Sirius for good, that he had to leave this place he suddenly realized he thought of as _home_, to go back to the Dursleys?

No. He wouldn't stand for it. He didn't want to leave Sirius; he _never_ wanted to leave Sirius, and he wasn't going to let some strange old man take his godfather away from him. Clutching tighter to Sirius legs, Harry shot the elderly man the nastiest glare he could. "You're _not_ taking Padfoot away from me!"

No one - least of all Harry - was prepared for what happened next; a sudden shock-wave of _magic_ erupted from the child, forcefully blowing Pollux back several meters, throwing the man into the wall.

Grimacing at the pain that shot up his back, Pollux gingerly rose up again, brushing dust away from his robes. "Okay, then," he mumbled, "the two of you go to the same place."

Fighting a smile, Sirius at least tried to pretend to be worried about his grand-father. "Are you okay?" he asked, absent-mindedly stroking Harry's hair.

Pollux gave him a dark look. "I raised your mother, boy," he reminded him. "A little tantrum from a little child like Harry is nothing I can't handle." He grimaced as he felt another jolt of pain up his back. "I have to admit, though, your mother's accidental magic was never quite this... potent."

Still fighting a chuckle, Sirius nodded, seeing what the man was getting at - anyone who could handle Walburga Black wouldn't have any problems with a sweet child like Harry. "So, I guess I'll hear from you later?" he asked, unable to stop a smile forming on his lips.

Pollux shot him another glare, as well as a slightly indignant look Harry's way, and then nodded. "Either me or Cassie will get in touch with you when it's time to get out of the house. Until then, I suggest you lay low and don't get up to any funny business." With that said, Pollux turned his back on the two, grabbed some floo-powder, and then he was gone.

* * *

><p>It had taken a few lies, an illegal spell or two and an outright bribe, but Lucius had finally - after three days of work - managed to get a hold of the stupid little rat - without any of the Weasleys having a clue that it was him - that had given him such a headache, and now the mangy rodent was safely enclosed in an unbreakable cage in his office. Now the only thing that remained was identifying the blasted little rat as the dead Peter Pettigrew, and then it would be out of his hair.<p>

Tiredly slumping down in the chair behind his desk, Lucius gently massaged his temples in an attempt to sooth his pounding head, silently wondering what in the world could take that blasted man so long.

* * *

><p>As per usual, Remus seriously doubted his own decisions as he took the telephone booth down into the Ministry. The note he'd gotten from Mr. Malfoy had been scarce, filling Remus' head with questions and suspicions, but yet again his curiosity had won over; he realized he wanted to <em>know<em> what the other wizard, whom he usually would have considered something of an enemy, wanted.

Walking around the Ministry, Remus was secretly glad he'd been out of the country for so long; no one recognized him, and he was able to easily fall into the flow of all other people rushing to and fro through the halls. No one paid him any heed as he slowly walked towards his destination, hesitation plaguing his mind.

Eventually he reached the door leading to Mr. Malfoy's office, and he stared at it for a brief second, momentarily considering running away, and then he knocked. After waiting for the longest moment, the door finally opened, revealing a slightly irate looking Lucius Malfoy.

"Mr. Lupin," the blonde greeted coolly, "I was beginning to think you would not come."

Allowing himself a small, crooked smile, Remus silently let himself be led into the office, his posture seemingly old and tired while his eyes rapidly took in his surroundings. The room was large and spacious, with a large desk and one wall lines with bookcases. The bookworm in him was sorely tempted to just take one more look at the books. His eyes strayed over to the desk again, and he frowned as he realized there was a small cage on it. He frowned and took a deep breath through his nose, trying to determine the smell. Where did he recognize it from?

"What was it you wanted, Mr. Malfoy?" he asked, feeling his brows crease in a faint frown. There was just something disturbingly familiar with that scent, but he just couldn't quite place it.

Carefully closing the door behind him, the blonde walked up to the desk, giving Remus an almost speculative look, his eyes glancing towards the cage ever so often. "There is something I need your assistance with," he said, and something in his tone made Remus glance at the small cage again.

Whatever that was in the cage had begun to move around, squeaking loudly, and Remus realized with a start that it was a rat. The rodent seemed to be making rather desperate attempts to escape, and Remus felt his confusion grow. Why on earth would someone like Lucius Malfoy have a rat on his desk?

Some of his confusion must have been visible on his face, for the blonde smirked, giving him a look that clearly was meant to be superior. "As you have probably guessed," the man said, "this... rat is part of the reason why I have asked you to come here. In fact, one might say it's the whole reason."

Remus frowned, more confused than before. "I'm not sure I understand," he confessed slowly, still trying to figure out just where he'd smelt that particular scent before. It was so darn familiar, but the answer slipped his mind over and over again.

Mr. Malfoy smiled faintly, and suddenly he had his wand in his hand, pointing it against the rat. "I'm sure everything will become clear in just a moment," he assured Remus - and himself. "_Stupefy_," he said, aiming into the cage, and the rat fell silent. The blonde then reached into the cage - with an expression that told Remus just how little he enjoyed _that_ - and gingerly picked up the rat. He held it out towards a quite confused Remus. "Recognize it?"

Remus stared, first at the rat, and then at Mr. Malfoy, thinking that the blonde must've lost his mind. Then he looked back at the rat, and something in his mind clicked; suddenly he remembered where he recognized that scent from. It was coming from the stiff rodent in the blonde's hand, and Remus realized he was recognized the rat far too well.

"Impossible," he muttered, amber eyes wide. It couldn't be; he was supposed to be _dead_, killed by... Oh dear. Remus swallowed, suddenly realizing his throat had gone very dry. "Where did you find this rat?"

* * *

><p>Lying in his bed, Sirius let out a small sigh as he stared at the dark ceiling. Sleep always seemed tricky to find these days, and he more often than not found himself lying awake throughout the night, only ever finding some rest when Harry crept into his room, looking for comfort. It had become a routine of theirs; Sirius would tuck Harry into his bed in Regulus old room, and then, hours later, the small child would find his way into Sirius room, quietly sneaking into the older man's bed.<p>

Sirius really had no problems with this; whatever woke Harry up at night seemed to leave him alone as soon as he was snuggled up against his godfather. Sirius himself wasn't as lucky; albeit the child's presence certainly helped, it couldn't quite erase the hold Azkaban still held over him. He knew people would just write it off as madness if he ever told anyone, but he could still feel the prison clinging to his mind, unwilling to let him go. Just like Hogwarts left an imprint on her students, Azkaban grasped her prisoners, and she never quite let go.

The man sighed, and a small, rational part of him that sounded suspiciously much like Moony told him he was being ridiculous; Azkaban was just a building, just a place, not a sentient being. A larger, louder part of him that sounded a lot like Prongs scoffed at rational-Moony's insinuation, insisting that it _was_ alive, just like Hogwarts and every other magical place.

Absent-mindedly listening to his inner voices argue with each other, Sirius sighed again, wondering if perhaps he was crazy, after all.

There was a small shuffling of feet, and Sirius glanced up to see the silhouette of Harry in the doorway, the thin child as always pausing, waiting for permission. Smiling softly, Sirius shifted, making room under the covers, and seconds later Harry crept down beside his godfather, snuggling close to the other man as he silently fell asleep again.

Holding Harry close, Sirius mentally prepared himself for a long, sleepless night.

* * *

><p>Narcissa blinked in surprise at the head that had suddenly appeared in her fire-place. "Great-aunt Cassiopeia," she greeted. "I did not expect a call from you."<p>

"Of course you didn't," the elderly woman snapped, tossing her head. "It was ages since we last spoke."

Smiling politely, Narcissa figured it would be unnecessary to mention that it was more than long; they had barely shared a word since the Narcissa had gotten married. Cassiopeia had been one of the few not to approve of her union with Lucius Malfoy, regardless of his pure-blood status.

"What are you sitting there looking silly for, girl?" Cassiopeia said sharply, knocking over a few coals in the process. "Aren't you going to invite me in for tea?"

Her first impulse was to immediately refuse and leave the room, but she had been raised far too well to give in to such an impolite urge. Instead she smiled respectfully at her great-aunt. "Why of course," she said in a tone she had cultivated since she was twelve, "it would be lovely to have you over for tea."

Something akin to dark amusement seemed to flicker over the elder woman's appearance, and she smiled faintly. "Don't lie if you are not certain you will not get caught, girl. I'll be through in a minute."

The head disappeared from the fire-place, giving Narcissa a few moments to patch up the crack in her otherwise perfect visage. Cassiopeia had always had a penchant for seeing right through her, and had never been afraid of pointing it out. To be honest, the woman had a knack for seeing right through _everyone_, and seemed to find a cruel glee in pointing out other people's flaws. Mentally sighing to herself, Narcissa straightened her back, and watched with an unreadable expression how her great-aunt on her father's side stepped out of the fire-place.

"There you are, girl," the witch greeted with twisted amusement, "all grown up."

"Yes, great-aunt," Narcissa agreed. "It's been over ten years."

Cassiopeia brushed the remark off as easily as if it had been a fly. "Time flies, doesn't it?" she commented with a small smile. "Now, how about you and I go to the drawing room and have us a nice cup of tea, hm? You _do_ have a drawing room, don't you?"

Restraining a sigh, Narcissa linked arms with her great-aunt, preparing herself for a possibly torturous afternoon. "Yes, great-aunt, we have a drawing room." This was going to be a long day.

* * *

><p>"Did you see the paper this morning?" Arcturus asked his cousin, smiling at the man who seemed to be quite engrossed in a large, leathery tome on his desk, his eyes flying over the pages.<p>

"Oh, yes," Pollux mumbled in response, not even glancing up at his cousin as he turned a page.

Arcturus rolled his eyes. "And did you read it, too?"

The younger of the two grimaced, finally looking up from his book to give his cousin a disgusted look. "Why on earth would I read the rubbish they post in the Prophet?"

Having suspected such a response - he had, after all, known Pollux for a very long time - Arcturus procured a copy of the before-mentioned newspaper from his robes and held it up to Pollux, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

Brows furrowing in annoyance, Pollux snatched the newspaper none too gently from Arcturus' hands, knowing that the damn old man wouldn't give in until he got what he wanted, and began to skim the front page. "What am I suppose to be reading?" he muttered in exasperation. As he had expected the headlines where rubbish; something about some article on the Minister, a mention of some Ministry-employee who'd gotten caught exposing magic to muggles, something about a Pettigrew being found alive...

He paused, eyes suddenly wide. He recognized that name, Pettigrew; hadn't that been the one they said Sirius had killed, along with all those muggles..? Pollux looked up at Arcturus, who was still smiling. "Does this mean what I think it means?"

Arcturus crooked smile widened just a fraction. "Why yes, my dear Pollux, I do believe it does."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Woohoo, another chapter. Spell-check hasn't come up with anything new this time. Tumbledown is still a smuggle-lover, Pollute hopes his great-nephew will stay out of trouble, and Narcissist wishes her great-aunt would visit someone else. And now it seems Pettifog has been discovered, too. Oh dear.**  
><strong>


	10. Broken Glass

**Disclaimer**: I own copies of the books, and one copy of the second movie. Surely that must count for something?

* * *

><p>"Sirius!" Cassiopeia's voice rang through the rooms of Grimmauld Place. "Where is that boy?" she muttered to herself, dark eyes narrowed. "<em>Sirius<em>!"

There was a sudden sound, a creak that sounded quite a lot like someone trying to sneak down old, uncooperative stairs, and Cassiopeia rolled her eyes as she waited patiently. True enough, moments later a gaunt face peeked through the doorway, and the elderly woman was struck with how different Sirius had become; no more was the obnoxious little boy who'd abandoned his home, and in his place was now a man who'd seen far more than most. If he hadn't looked so much like his parents, Cassiopeia wasn't sure she would have recognized him.

"Cassiopeia," the man exclaimed, his suspicion giving way for surprise. "What are _you_ doing here?"

The woman snorted. "I see your manners are still as atrocious as ever, brat."

"And I hear you're still as annoying as ever," Sirius countered with a sudden grin.

Cassiopeia pursed her lips. "I should _scourgify_ your mouth for that."

Sirius grin simply widened. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes again, Cassiopeia glanced at the young boy who was standing behind Sirius, seemingly trying to hide himself behind the man's legs, and one of her eyebrows rose. Pollux had told her the child was thin, but surely eight year olds shouldn't be so small?

Seeing where his great-aunt was looking, Sirius blinked, and then laid a hand on the child's head. "Oh right," he mumbled. "Harry, this is my great-aunt Cassiopeia Black," he exclaimed, and the child carefully glanced at the elderly woman.

Cassiopeia gave Sirius a look. "Isn't he a bit skinny?" she questioned with just a hint of disapproval in her voice.

To her surprise Sirius actually seemed a bit embarrassed, because he suddenly avoided her gaze. "Kreacher's been working on that," he mumbled under his breath, and as if on cue an ugly little house-elf popped into view, carrying a plate with a sandwich.

"Harry Potter Boy has to eat," the elf said seriously, holding the plate out towards the boy.

Cassiopeia's eyes made an effort to acquaint themselves with her hairline when the boy suddenly smiled, bright and wide, and accepted the sandwich eagerly as he thanked the elf. The house-elf seemed to fluster under the kindness, and disappeared from view with a few unintelligible mutters. Shaking her head in disbelief, Cassiopeia silently decided that she didn't want to know.

"Right. Pack your things, boy. The Ministry will be here by lunch, and Pollux insisted I keep you from getting arrested."

Sirius glanced at Harry, and then looked back at his great-aunt. "Uh, I think we're ready to go right now, then."

Giving her great-nephew an astonished look, she then frowned. "Are you trying to tell me there's _nothing_ you need to pack? No clothes or anything?" As Sirius shook his head, Cassiopeia resisted the urge to mutter something unsavoury under her breath. "No wonder Narcissa was so upset," she said, and then shook her head. "Never mind, then. Off we go."

She managed to get both of them to the fire-place when the child suddenly looked up, his eyes wide. "Are we going to leave Kreacher behind?" he asked, sounding as horrified as only a child could.

Cassiopeia, having heard from Pollux about Harry's little outburst - which, of course, had led to her laughing for at least twenty minutes - gave the child a calculating look, and then sighed. "Of course not," she said, giving in. "How could we ever do such a thing?"

As Sirius tried his best not to laugh out loud at his great-aunt, Harry happily called for Kreacher. The elf arrived with suspicion written clear over his features, and then he practically fainted as Harry took his little hand in his own, announcing that the elf was coming with them until it was safe to be in Grimmauld Place again.

Stunned, the elf stared at the boy with wide eyes. "Harry Potter Boy wants to keep Kreacher... safe?"

Smiling, Harry nodded. "Of course I do," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "That's what friends are for, right?" Harry had never had a friend before - Dudley had seen to that - but he was sure that was what friends did. Right?

Kreacher's eyes widened even more - a feat one might've thought impossible - and the elf didn't even find it in him to protest as Harry pulled him closer to the group.

The two adults shared a look, Sirius still fighting laughter. Cassiopeia's eyes were narrowed, and her brows were furrowed into a frown. Narcissa had told her the boy had been abused by the muggles he'd lived with, but she would never had expect it to be this bad. Calling a house-elf a friend, really. The poor child must be starved for attention.

Making a mental note to drill Sirius for answers later, Cassiopeia gathered her odd little group into the fire-place, took some floo-powder, and then announced their destination. She was going to have a long talk with Narcissa later.

* * *

><p>Still lying in the bed of the room he'd rented at The Leaky Cauldron, Remus sighed as his stomach grumbled. He really wasn't in any mood to get out of bed - preferably not for the whole day - but he knew he should; the wolf in him got irate when not fed properly. The last few days had been hectic and tiring, and Remus wanted nothing more than to bury himself under the covers and just forget it all.<p>

Who could have guessed that something he'd taken for a truth the last seven years would turn out to be a horrible lie? The sight of Peter still haunted him, from the moment he'd recognized the rat till when he had forced him to turn back into a human. The supposedly dead man was now in Ministry custody, and even though he claimed to be innocent and to only have hid in fear, Remus gut seemed to disagree.

Peter would be questioned with veritaserum later in the day, and Remus couldn't help but wonder just how much the rat had lied about. What if the one responsible for the mess seven years ago wasn't the one who'd been sent to Azkaban? What if the one who'd killed all those people had walked free? What if... What if Sirius was innocent?

Groaning, Remus turned around to bury his face into the pillow. He still regretted coming back to England; things would be so much simpler if he'd only had the sense to burn the solicitor's letter and stay in Romania. But then again, sense had never been one of his strong points. Not in his own opinion, at least.

His stomach growled again, and he sighed, slowly pulling himself out of the bed. Quickly dressing, he carefully avoided his own mirror image - he knew he looked a mess, anyway - and began to make his way down to the bar, intent on getting some food to silence the wolf inside of him.

Lucius Malfoy had promised to contact him as soon as the questioning of Peter was done, and Remus did his best to avoid thinking of the consequences that could have. A small part of him even wished Peter would be proved innocent; a lot of things would become much easier, that way. His wolf simply laughed at him.

* * *

><p>Sitting on opposite sides of the room, Sirius and his paternal grandfather, Arcturus Black, stared at each other. Arcturus was smiling, but his eyes were cold. Harry, who was sitting in an armchair, with Kreacher sitting on the armrest, was staring at his feet, feeling the uncomfortable silence slowly crush him.<p>

They had been sitting like that for hours; ever since Cassiopeia had dumped them into her living room, leaving them with the excuse that she needed to make sure Pollux didn't mess anything up. At first Harry had been really excited; he was in another magical house, and he'd travelled there by _fire-place_ - never mind that it had made him dizzy and that Sirius had had to catch him as he fell. Now, however, much of the magic had seemed to shrink away, cowering under the intense stare-off between the two men.

Harry suppressed a sigh, afraid that all the attention would be focused on him if he dared interrupt the deafening silence. Even Kreacher was quiet, standing perfectly still on the armrest. Despite the elf's apparent ambition to mimic a statue, however, Harry felt he was grateful for Kreacher's presence; he didn't want to imagine how awful it would've been had he been all alone with Sirius and Arcturus.

Suddenly the fire-place in the room flashed green, and Cassiopeia, followed by Pollux, appeared. The elderly woman took one look at the tense trio, and then rolled her eyes. "You haven't moved since I left, have you?"

Arcturus kept staring at Sirius for just a moment longer, and then he turned to smile at his cousin. "Ah, dear Cassie," he greeted. "I take it went well at Grimmauld Place?"

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes for just a fraction of a moment, but then she slumped down in the couch beside Sirius with a sigh. "Of course it did," she assured him, and it made Harry look up for the first time in the whole day.

"Does that mean we can go ho-back?" he asked, just barely managing to correct his mistake. It wasn't his home, after all, no matter how much he liked it there.

The woman smiled wryly at his little slip up. "Yes, dear, it means you can go... back." The boy blushed, and her smile widened. She turned to Sirius, a smug look in her eyes. "Though I think it's time for a little family dinner. Wouldn't you agree, Sirius?"

The youngest of the four Blacks present flinched at the woman's tone, and then turned to stare at his great-aunt, his eyes full of suspicion. "What are you planning?"

Cassiopeia smiled sweetly - and unconvincingly - at him. "Dear boy, can't an old lady simply want to spend some time with her family?"

* * *

><p>In the end, Sirius couldn't manage to find out what Cassiopeia had been planning, and after a few attempts to decline he finally agreed to stay for dinner - mostly to get the old woman to shut up. Harry was a bit sceptical about the whole idea, but he knew better than to question.<p>

They remained in the living room for a while longer, and then a house-elf that wasn't nearly as wrinkly or sour as Kreacher appeared, announcing that dinner had been served. Harry let himself be ushered into the dining room, making sure to keep close to Sirius. He could feel anxiety building in his chest; the only fancy dinners he'd ever experienced were those his aunt and uncle used to have, and he'd only been allowed to do the dishes during those.

He half expected Cassiopeia to send him away to the kitchen, but the woman only smiled at him, looking like she knew just how nervous she made him, and directed him to a chair next to Sirius. The chair on his other side was empty, and Harry was silently grateful for that; he didn't think he would be able to focus if he'd have sit beside someone he didn't know.

Dinner was a subdued affair - for Harry and Sirius, at least - and Harry barely even touched his food, roast beef with roast potatoes, afraid to make a sound, afraid someone would notice him. Sirius was quiet too, but for different reasons, and the only ones making an effort to keep a conversation going was Cassiopeia and Pollux. Harry was beginning to wish for real that he could just sink into the ground and disappear, or at least be out in the kitchen with Kreacher.

Laughing at something Pollux said, Cassiopeia suddenly turned her intense eyes towards Sirius, a smug smile playing on her lips. "Oh right, Sirius, did I mention they are re-opening your case?"

Sirius, who had been drinking at that moment, just barely managed to stop himself from spraying liquid out all over the table. He sent Cassiopeia a dark look, wiping his chin with his sleeve. "No," he said, "no you did not."

Cassiopeia smiled. "I heard it myself just this morning," she told them, taking a deliberately slow sip of her wine. "Apparently Narcissa's husband found some fellow named Peter Pettigrew alive."

The crash of Sirius' glass falling to the floor echoed through the dining room. He turned to stare at Cassiopeia, and his eyes were wild, cold. "How long have you known where the rat was?" he asked, and all of them were suddenly reminded that, even though it was becoming apparent that he was innocent, this was a man who had spent seven years in Azkaban, and that took its toll in more ways than one.

Refusing to be intimidated, Cassiopeia gave him a look down her nose, watching him closely. "Since yesterday."

"Why didn't you tell me!" Sirius shouted, standing up with enough force to knock his chair to the floor. He had slammed his hands down on the table, and was now glaring angrily at Cassiopeia.

The woman leaned back in her chair, fury reflected in her eyes. "And why, pray tell, should I have done that?"

Sirius entire posture screamed of anger, and for a split second it seemed like he was going to lunge at the elderly woman. "So I could've _killed_ him!"

"What, so you could get yourself sent back to Azkaban _again_?"

"It would have been worth it! He is responsible for _everything_! It's his fault that - that..." He slouched, as if someone had suddenly taken away all his air, and his head fell. "Never mind," he bit out through clenched teeth. "Harry, come on, we're going home."

The child quickly scrambled out of his chair and followed his godfather, casting a last, wide-eyed glance at the three still seated at the table before he disappeared out of the door. Moments later a house-elf appeared, quietly announcing that Misters Black and Potter had left through the floo.

Pollux shot his sister an annoyed look. "Well done, Cassie."

"Shut it, Polly."

* * *

><p>With carefully practised, seemingly effortless elegance Narcissa Malfoy entered the Leaky Cauldron. The hood of her robe was pulled up over her head, partially obscuring her features in shadow. With a purpose in mind, the haughty woman walked up to the bar, her eyes fixed on Tom, the bartender.<p>

"What can I do fer ye, Mrs. Malfoy?" he greeted politely.

"A Mr. Lupin is staying here, correctly?" she asked coolly, her eyes narrowed and calculating.

Slowly putting down the glass he had been cleaning, Tom the bartender nodded, his confusion clear in his eyes. "Aye, Mrs. Malfoy," he confirmed. "Do ye want me to call him down?"

"There will be no need for that," Narcissa assured him. "Just tell me his room number."

Bewildered at why someone like Narcissa Malfoy would want anything to do with Remus Lupin, Tom still supplied her with the right room and watched with raised eyebrows how the woman ascended the stairs, up to the second floor.

Finding the right door, Narcissa hesitated only a second, and then knocked. There was a moment of silence, and then sounds of movement behind the door. For a second she was certain she could hear someone breathe deeply, almost as if the person was smelling the air.

"Who is it?" a voice suddenly rang out.

"Narcissa Malfoy."

The silence that followed was heavy, suspicious, but after several moments the door still opened slowly, barely enough to reveal a face, and she could see a pair of amber eyes stare at her suspiciously.

"What is your business here?" the ragged man asked, and Narcissa was certain he had his wand pointed at her.

She smiled. "Business that shouldn't be discussed in the hallway, Mr. Lupin. There are ears everywhere."

The man hesitated, and for a second Narcissa thought he would close the door on her, but then he seemed to make his mind up. He opened the door fully, gesturing inside with his arm. Giving him a polite nod, Narcissa strode into the spartanly decorated room.

"A silencing charm, if you please," she ordered, and watched him comply - however suspiciously.

"Why are you here?"

Narcissa gave him a calculating look, her lips pursed. "I come on behalf of my husband," she admitted finally. "On the subject of Peter Pettigrew." He was very good at hiding it, but Narcissa's sharp eyes still caught the tiny flinch at the name. "As you know, he was questioned this afternoon."

The man nodded. "Mr. Malfoy - your husband promised to inform me of the results."

The smile that graced Narcissa's lips was just one shade away from condescending. "That is why I am here, Mr. Lupin. It seems that Sirius Black was innocent all along, after all."

She might as well have punched him in the stomach; all air seemed to leave him, and his shoulders slouched. He swayed for a moment, and Narcissa was almost worried that he would fall. He seemed to be worried about that, too, for he sat down in the only chair in the room, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"Breathe, Mr. Lupin," Narcissa reminded him, and the man sucked in a rush of air.

"Details," he commanded, his voice strained, "give me more details."

Narcissa shrugged. "There isn't much to tell; apparently it was Pettigrew who killed all the muggles, not Black."

"But they found his finger - they found Peter's finger," Remus objected.

Feeling a sting of sympathy well up in her for the clearly miserable man, Narcissa sighed. "He cut his own finger off before he turned himself into a rat," she told him, looking away to at least give the man the illusion of dignity. She dreaded what she had to tell him next, but she knew it had to be done. "Apparently it was he who sold the Potters out to You-Know-Who."

The strangled sound that escaped the man's lips was enough to tear her heart in pieces, and she wished there was something she could do. An idea suddenly came to her, and she glanced at the man, who had buried his head in his hands, his body shaking.

She gave him a speculative look. "Even though Sirius did escape from Azkaban, there is little to no chance they will send him back, not with what they know now," she began, politely looking away again. She hesitated for a second. "You were friends in school, were you not?" she asked.

"Yes," the man answered after a moment, his voice shaky.

Narcissa bit her lip. "Would you - would you like to meet him?"

She heard him shift, and she glanced at him to see him stare at her with wide eyes. "What do you mean?" he asked suspiciously.

"Exactly what I said, Mr. Lupin. If I said I knew where Sirius was, would you want to see him?"

Something akin to hope seemed to light up in his eyes, but it disappeared quickly, and he hung his head again. "Why would he want to see me?" he questioned, more to himself than to her. "I thought him a killer."

"As did all of us," Narcissa reminded him gently.

"But I was his _friend_."

Narcissa sighed. "Don't you think that's what Sirius would need now? A friend?"

Remus stilled for a second, and then looked up at her. There was a hint of determination in his eyes that hadn't been there before. "You said you know where he is?"

She nodded. "I do."

He hesitated, almost as if he was having an internal struggle, but when he spoke his resolve was clear. "Can you take me to him?"

A small smile tugging at her lips, Narcissa nodded again. "I can."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Woohoo, a chapter! I'm so sorry for the slight delay; Real Life hit me over the head with a club and then proceeded to have it's merry way with me. Spell-check hasn't much to add this time; only that Pettifog was apparently questioned with veritable, and scourgify should apparently be scourger.


	11. Reunion

**Disclaimer**: Jo is a possible nickname for me. Does that mean I own it?

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><p>It was late, and the pub was dark. Only a few patrons were still there, sitting huddled in their private corners. Tom the bartender was the only one paying attention as Narcissa Malfoy re-emerged down the stairs, her hood drawn up to obscure her face, her gait confident and sure. The real surprise was the one following her; ragged, tattered old Remus Lupin, with patched clothes and greying hair. Tom watched the strange duo leave his bar, his eyebrows raised, and then he shrugged. What his customers did wasn't really any of his business, after all.<p>

* * *

><p>His slouched posture belying his alert eyes, Remus watched Narcissa carefully as he followed her out in the alley that led to Diagon Alley. The woman turned and offered her arm with a smile, and Remus had no doubt that they were about to apparate. He gave her a calculating look, trying detect any signs of deceit. He found none, and with a tired sigh he took the woman's offered arm in his own. Narcissa smiled, just a hint of victory playing in her eyes, and then they were pressed through a miniscule tube, pressing their air out of their lungs. When Remus opened his eyes again he was standing in the foyer of Malfoy Manor.<p>

"This way," Narcissa said, leaving Remus no time to admire his surroundings. She led him to a fire-place, and then gestured towards it. "This is the only way for you to get there," she explained.

Nodding, Remus began to look around for floo-powder. "Where do I go?"

Smiling, the blonde took a handful of floo-powder from a cup on the mantel and stepped into the fire-place, gesturing for him to join her. "I had better come with you," she explained at his suspicious look. She waited patiently for him to step into the fire-place beside her, and once they were standing side by side, she threw the floo-powder onto the ground, loudly saying the name of their destination: "Grimmauld Place 12."

As they were whisked away, Remus couldn't help but wonder what could have compelled Sirius to return to his hated childhood home.

* * *

><p>Harry and Sirius were sitting in the living room, Harry in his usual chair, Sirius slumped down on the couch. The man had buried his head in his hands, and had been sitting like that since they came home from Cassiopeia. Harry was naturally worried, but this time he didn't know what he could do to make things better, so he just curled up in his chair, wrapping his arms around his legs, hoping something would happen that would take Sirius mind off things.<p>

Someone must've listened to him, because suddenly the fire-place flared, and two people stepped out. Harry immediately recognized Narcissa, but he had never seen the other man before. He was as tall as Narcissa, with greying, light brown hair and amber eyes. His clothes looked well-worn and tattered.

Sirius, his head still in his hands, didn't even bother to look up. "What do you want?" he muttered, knowing the visitors would be one of the Blacks.

A small smile appeared on Narcissa's lips. "There's someone I think you'd like to meet, dear cousin," she told him, glancing at the man beside her. "And old... friend."

Something in her voice made Sirius frown, and he hesitated for a second, almost afraid to look up. Steeling himself, he raised his gaze, and his eyes fell onto the form of someone he hadn't seen since before James and Lily had been killed.

"Remus," he mumbled, his mouth suddenly dry, his eyes wide with surprise.

Remus swallowed nervously. "Hello, Sirius. Long time, no see."

Giving the two men a knowing look, Narcissa smiled. "Why don't I tuck Harry into bed and read him a bedtime story," she said, "so you two can talk things out, hm?"

Startled, Remus' eyes suddenly flicked over to Harry, as if he hadn't noticed him until now. "Is - is that..?" he whispered, his voice dry.

"It is," Narcissa confirmed, walking over to the child. "You can talk to him as much as you want to tomorrow. Come on, Harry. Time for bed." She held out her hand towards the child, which he hesitantly accepted. They walked out the room together, Harry sending one last, worried glance at Sirius and the stranger before he let Narcissa lead him away.

* * *

><p>Stepping into Harry's room, Narcissa smiled in approval at the decor. "Change into your pyjamas, dear," she ordered, politely turning away to give the boy some privacy.<p>

Harry coughed uncomfortably. "Uh," he mumbled, making the woman turn around again, "P-Padfoot usually changes my clothes with m-magic."

One delicate eyebrow rising, Narcissa gave the boy a surprised look. A horrible suspicion began to creep up in her mind. "Are those," she gestured towards his tattered rags, "all the clothes you own?" She made an effort to keep her voice neutral, not wanting to alienate the boy.

Blushing, Harry nodded, avoiding her gaze. Narcissa felt something tug at her heart-strings as the child looked as if she was about to scold him for not owning any more clothes.

"Well, then," she said in a no-nonsense tone. "This time I will have to change them for you." Without wasting any time she procured her wand from the sleeve of her robe, and with an effortless flick of her wrist she changed his clothes into elegant, dark green satin pyjamas, smiling in satisfaction at the child. "There," she said. "Now, time to get into bed."

Harry quickly climbed into his bed, pulling the covers up to his ears, his eyes wide as he stared at her. Narcissa shook her head with a small smile and gently tugged the covers down to reveal his face properly. She sat down on the bed, gently stroking his hair.

The child looked up at her with intensely green eyes. "Y-you don't have to tell me a bedtime story if you don't want to," he mumbled, and Narcissa couldn't help but feel like he was apologizing to her.

"Don't you want me to?" she questioned quietly, carefully watching as the child made an attempt to hide in the covers.

"I don't want to be a bother," he mumbled so lowly Narcissa had to strain herself to make out the words.

Frowning, Narcissa realized she had nothing to say to that, and her heart broke all over again, anger welling up inside of her at the thought of the horrible muggles that must've made Harry like this. She was even tempted to go see them herself and give them a piece of her mind, and possibly a curse or two. Most likely a curse or two. Okay, she'd hex them into the next century.

"Wh-who is that one who came with you?" the child suddenly asked, voice wary and apprehensive.

Realizing the child must be afraid of being left out, Narcissa smiled softly. "He is an old friend of Sirius'," she explained in a kind voice. "They went to school together."

"Was he..?"

"Yes," Narcissa confirmed, "he was friends with your parents, as well."

Harry nodded, and shifted a bit to lie more comfortably. "Will he - will he take Padfoot away?" His voice was small and fragile, vulnerable.

Narcissa made an effort to smile as reassuringly as she could. "No, dear," she said, leaning down to give him a soft kiss on the forehead, "no, he will not." She was going to make sure of that, herself. "Now it's time for you to sleep, sweetie." She gave him a soft pat on the head, gently stroking his hair, and smiled down at him.

The child hesitantly answered with a smile of his own, and Narcissa rose from the bed. When she was at the door, she heard a small whisper. "G'night, 'Cissa," the sleepy child murmured.

Narcissa glanced over her shoulder, smile still playing on her lips. "Good night, dear."

* * *

><p>As soon as Narcissa and the child had disappeared from view, Remus turned his amber eyes onto Sirius again. His old friend looked gaunt; his clothes hung loosely on his bony frame, and his cheeks were dark hollows. Still, there was a spark of life in his eyes, a spark Remus recognized from before - before everything bad happened. He seemed wary, hesitant - almost afraid - and Remus couldn't help but wonder just what seven years in Azkaban had done to his old friend. Seven <em>innocent<em> years, he mentally corrected himself, and felt a pang of guilt well up in his chest.

"Was that," he mumbled, swallowing nervously, thinking of the child Narcissa had led away, "was that... Harry?" Sirius nodded, and Remus frowned in confusion. "Wasn't he supposed to stay with his relatives - with Lily's sister?"

Sirius' countenance darkened, and Remus got a silly notion that the room had suddenly grown colder. "I'm never letting him go back to _them_," he growled out, eyes dark with fury.

"But surely Dumbledore-"

"Don't you _dare_ mention his name here like he's some kind of saint," Sirius interrupted, half-shouting. "It's his fault I - that I..." All air seemed to leave his body at once, and he slouched, letting his hair fall over his face. "He _knew_, Moony," he said. "He knew all along that we changed the secret-keeper."

Ah, there it was - the subject Remus had secretly been trying to avoid. "What do you mean?" he asked, a feeling of dread slowly creeping up his spine.

"Just what I said," the escaped prisoner snapped. "Dumbledore was there when we changed to Wormtail."

Remus swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Sirius' shoulders slouched even more, and he looked almost apologetic as he glanced up at his childhood friend. "I thought you were the traitor," he confessed, looking abashed, "and convinced Prongs and Lils not to tell you, just in case." A humourless chuckle left his lips, an sardonic exhalation of air. "Bloody good that did."

Feeling numb as his mind connected all the dots, Remus shook his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts. "So we both suspected each other of being the traitor?"

A faint, sheepish smile tugged at the corners of Sirius' lips. "Seems that way, yeah. A bit silly, in retrospect, but there's not much to be done about that now, is there?"

Remus couldn't quite get how Sirius could be so - so carefree about the whole thing. "Merlin, Sirius," he mumbled, "I am so sorry, and I - I understand if you can't forgive me." He knew _he_ wouldn't be able to forgive himself for suspecting one of his best friends.

The gaunt man looked up at his friend in surprise. "Forgive you for what? Being reasonable?"

"For thinking you were a traitor," Remus corrected, even sounding a little stern. "For not questioning things back then. For just... believing whatever they told me."

Sirius waved it all away with his hand. "No one is blaming you, Moony. Heck, even _I_ thought I was guilty there for a while."

Remus stared at him. "How can you just brush this away like it's nothing!" He just couldn't understand why the man was so - so bloody _cheerful_.

Something that suddenly appeared in Sirius' eyes almost made Remus stumble back a step. That cold, hard look that had never been a part of a young Sirius disturbed him far more than anything else, and another wave of guilt welled up inside of him. One could only imagine what Sirius had had to go through in his years at Azkaban; what the dementors had done to him.

The two of them stared at each other for a long moment, and then Remus sighed. "Look, I'm sorry, Sirius," he said, looking at his old friend with sad eyes. "For everything."

There was a tense moment of silence where Remus was certain Sirius would refuse to forgive him, but then the gaunt man smiled. "Water under the bridge," he said, holding out his hand. "Friends?"

Remus felt himself smile, and gladly accepted the offered hand. "Friends."

Letting out a relieved laugh, Sirius pulled his old friend into a rough, one-armed hug, and at that moment Narcissa walked into the room.

"I see you two are working things out," she said with a small smile playing on her lips.

Letting go of Remus, Sirius grinned broadly at Narcissa. "Did everything go well with Prongslet?"

"Oh, yes," the blonde woman assured him. "He's such a polite child."

"Don't worry, I'm going to help him out of that as soon as I can." Sirius grin was wide enough to split his face in two.

Narcissa gave him an arched look, one elegant eyebrow raised, but she let the comment slide. "You are going to get him new clothes," she then ordered. "I will not stand for him having to wear those horrible muggle rags any longer."

"Hey, it's not like I've had the possibility to do that, you know," Sirius defended himself. "Or do you say I should've snuck out more often?"

Ignoring his grin, Narcissa continued. "I might have some of Draco's old clothes left, but as soon as you're freed you _are_ going to take that boy shopping, and you _will_ get him a respectable wardrobe. Am I clear?"

"Crystal," Sirius said, mock-saluting her.

Eyes narrowing and mouth pursed, Narcissa sent a non-verbal jelly-legs jinx her cousin's way, and as he wobbled down onto the floor with a surprised curse she turned to Remus, who was watching them with apprehensive amusement. "Will you be staying here?" she asked politely.

Remus opened his mouth to respond, but was beaten to it by a still grinning Sirius. "'Course he is," the man said, propping himself up on his elbows. "We've got enough rooms."

Smiling, Narcissa nodded as Remus gave her a small smile in response. "I shall leave you two to it, then," she said, walking over to the fire-place. "Oh, and Remus? I promised Harry that you would not take Sirius away from him; I fully expect that promise to be kept. Do we understand each other?"

Blinking, the ragged man nodded. "Y-yes ma'am," he assured her almost on reflex. He then sent a well-aimed kick Sirius' way in an attempt to stop the man on the floor from laughing. All he got was a complained "Ouch," and more snickers.

* * *

><p>Lucius gave his wife a pained look. "Your great-aunt is coming over <em>again<em>?"

Frowning at him, Narcissa carefully pulled out robes for the day out of her wardrobe. "Don't sound like that," she admonished him, ignoring the fact that she, too had some troubles with the elderly witch. "Cassiopeia is a respectable witch."

"A respectable harpy, more like it," Lucius muttered, and then dodged as Narcissa tried to swat him over the head with her hand. "All right, all right," he sighed, "I'll play nice as long as she does."

Knowing that she wouldn't get her husband to promise anything more, Narcissa nodded. "Thank you, dear," she said and gave him a peck on the cheek. Quickly dressing, she then left their bedroom, leaving Lucius behind.

Lucius watched his wife leave, a small smile on his face, and then returned to his clothes with a sigh. He was going to have to dress even more impeccably - how that would even be possible he did not know - than usual, knowing that his wife's great-harpy would not hesitate to point out any mistakes, no matter how miniscule. Once he was pleased, he gave himself a last look-over in the mirror, and then went to join his wife for breakfast.

* * *

><p>Taking a sip from her cup of tea, Narcissa silently made plans to harm her husband. Almost as soon as Cassiopeia had arrived, Lucius had announced that he unfortunately couldn't keep them company, as he had several important meetings with his lawyers to attend to. Narcissa, knowing that her darling husband hadn't had anything planned for that day, could only watch as the slimy bastard escaped through the floo, leaving her all alone with the queen of snarkiness. She made a mental note to make sure Lucius punishment was humiliating.<p>

"Naturally," she said out loud in response to what Cassiopeia had been telling her.

Cassiopeia gave her great-niece a knowing look. "You haven't been listening to a word I've been saying, have you, dear?"

"Of course I have, great-aunt," Narcissa countered in the same, automatic-response tone as before. "How could I not, with a conversation this enticing?"

The elderly woman harrumphed indignantly. "What do you suggest we speak off, then, since gossip is clearly not good enough for you?"

Narcissa raised an eyebrow at her great-aunt. "Why are you here, Cassiopeia?" she asked.

"Can't an old lady visit her family without being scrutinized?"

"You don't like me, great-aunt," Narcissa reminded the old woman.

Cassiopeia scoffed. "Nonsense, dear," she assured her. "It's your husband I can't stand."

"Because he is a Malfoy."

"Quite right, darling." Cassiopeia sipped at her tea.

Narcissa sighed. "As am I."

The look Cassiopeia gave her was contemplative, calculating, and it made Narcissa feel like a little girl again. "Only by name, dear," the old woman said. "Only by name."

Had Narcissa had a lesser upbringing, she might've dropped her tea, her surprise written clearly over her features. However, being the delicate lady that she was, she simply raised an eyebrow at her aunt, hoping her eyes did not reveal her shock.

"Have you visited Sirius lately, dear?" Cassiopeia suddenly asked, acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

Narcissa had to give herself a moment to compose herself. "Y-yes," she answered, mentally cursing her shaky voice. "I was there last night."

"That's wonderful, love. How is he?"

"He is... getting better," Narcissa responded after a slight pause, giving her great-aunt an odd look. "Though I am certain there is still quite a while until he will be over the trauma of the whole ordeal."

Cassiopeia hummed in response, drinking her tea. "Yes, yes I suppose it is. Nasty things, dementors."

"Quite so."

Silence settled over them again, a heavy, suffocating silence that held more questions than answers. Narcissa calmly sipped her tea. "I plan to drop by later today," she confessed, careful not to look at her great-aunt. "I have some old clothes of Draco's for Harry."

"Do you, now?" the elderly woman questioned, and Narcissa didn't even have to look to know that she had raised her eyebrows.

"I've ordered Sirius to buy Harry some new ones as soon as possible, of course, but until then they will have to make do with hand-me-downs. It's not like they are going to be seen in public, after all."

Cassiopeia hummed in agreement, and silence fell over them again. Narcissa thought for a moment, an idea forming in her head, and glanced at her great-aunt. She was surprised she had come up with the idea in the first place, and for a second she considered discarding the whole thing.

"Would you like to come along?"

If Cassiopeia was surprised, she hid it well, and as the silence stretched on Narcissa began to doubt herself. Then the old woman spoke. "That would be lovely, dear. When are we leaving?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Aaand another chapter is up. Woohoo! Also, spell-check thinks we'll all splinch (or, rather, linchpin) ourselves - it called "apparate" separate. And Draco will never get to own anything, "Draco's" is apparently supposed to be "Drachma's." I'm not sure who this Drachma is, but I think it's quite rude of him to take Draco's things.


	12. Clothes

**Disclaimer**: I'm sure JK would disagree if I claimed to be her. I'll just have to settle with being JE

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><p>Remus woke early next morning, the unfamiliar surroundings stirring his brain awake. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scents of the pillow and his sheets. They smelled clean, but old, and they were slightly scratchy against his skin. He'd woken up in worse places.<p>

Stifling a yawn, he sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes with the back of his hand while scrambling for his wand with the other one. He cast a quick tempus charm, which revealed that it was almost eight in the morning. Groaning, he contemplated just going back to sleep for a moment, but then decided against it. He might as well get up now that he was awake, even though he suspected the other occupants of the house were still fast asleep. It had always been difficult to get Sirius up in the morning.

Quickly dressing in last night's clothes, he began to walk down the stairs, careful not to make any unnecessary noise. One floor down, however, his sensitive ears picked up noise from the lower floor, and with a small frown creasing his brows he continued down. He soon realized the noise was, in fact, a pair of voices; one belonging to Sirius, and the other he assumed must belong to none other than Harry.

Making his way down to the bottom floor, Remus soon realized the voices were coming from the living room, and he glanced through the doorway just in time to see Harry laugh about something Sirius had said. The dark-haired man was chuckling, a wide grin on his face, and Remus almost didn't want to disturb them. He got no choice in the matter, though, because Sirius suddenly glanced up, his eyes landing on Remus.

"Moony!" he said, far more cheerfully than what could possibly be allowed so early in the morning. "Have a seat."

Remus did so, carefully, glancing between the other two. "Why are you up so early?" he wondered.

Sirius shrugged. "We're usually up this early," he said, taking a bite from his breakfast. "You want some food?"

Knowing his wolf would complain a lot of he didn't eat, Remus nodded, watching as Sirius ordered Kreacher for another plate. The food - bacon, sausage, baked beans and toast - appeared within seconds, and the house-elf carefully set it down in front of Remus. The elf then proceeded with giving Harry seconds, mumbling something about the child needing to eat more. Glancing over at the boy, Remus couldn't help but agree; Harry certainly looked like he needed to eat a _lot_ more.

Harry, feeling eyes upon him, looked up, and then immediately flushed red as he met Remus' eyes, and quickly hung his head again. Picking at his food, the child then glanced towards Sirius for some sort of security.

Remus couldn't help but frown. Surely it wasn't normal for children to be this shy? He'd have to talk with Sirius about that later.

"Eat your food, Prongslet," Sirius suddenly ordered through a mouthful of bacon. "You know the blasted elf won't let you leave the table until the plate is clean."

"But he just keeps refilling it!" Harry protested. "'S not fair."

"Then tell him to stop."

Sending Sirius an angry pout, Harry then called for the elf.

"What can Kreacher do for Mr. Harry Potter boy?" the elf asked, sounding a lot more cheerful than he did when he spoke with Sirius.

"I'm full," Harry explained, "so you don't need to give me any more food, all right?"

The elf shook his head. "Harry Potter boy has to eat," he said solemnly. "Harry Potter boy is too small."

Turning to glare at Sirius, Harry exclaimed, "See!" making the older man laugh.

"All right, all right," Sirius said, still laughing. "Kreacher, give the kid a rest. You can stuff him again when it's lunch."

The house-elf mumbled something unsavoury under his breath and narrowed his eyes at his master. "Harry Potter boy has to finish this plate," he bartered, crossing his arms over his chest.

Sirius eyebrows made an effort to acquaint themselves with his eyebrows. "Deal," he said, wondering just when his house-elf had grown a back-bone.

Nodding in satisfaction, the little elf ignored Harry's groan and popped out of view.

Remus glanced at Sirius. "Is this a common occurrence?"

Shrugging, Sirius leaned back in the couch. "Kreacher feeding Prongslet? Definitely." He stretched his long limbs, and then absent-mindedly scratched his head. "The little bugger bargaining about it? That's new, but I shouldn't be too surprised."

Glancing at the child, who had resigned to finishing his food, Remus then looked back at Sirius, an incredulous expression on his face. "I see," he mumbled, taking a bite from his toast. It seemed as if he and Sirius would have quite a lot to talk about once Harry was out of ear-shot.

* * *

><p>Smiling charmingly at the Minister for Magic, Millicent Bagnold, Lucius took a sip from his tea. It had been quite ingenious of him, escaping Cassiopeia like he did, but he knew he'd have to pay for it later; Narcissa would make sure of it. It was one of the many reasons he loved his wife as much as he did.<p>

"Awful, this about Pettigrew, don't you think?" the Minister asked, and Lucius could see the woman was nervous about his reaction. She should be, he thought with a mental sneer; if it hadn't been for the woman's incompetence the whole spectacle would never have happened. Of course, in other aspects Lucius was very grateful for the woman's ineptitude; Azkaban would simply not suit him.

"Indeed," Lucius replied smoothly. "I'm just glad they have finally caught him and brought him to justice."

The Minister let out a laugh. "That is quite fortunate, yes," she agreed. "You had a part in it, of course?"

Putting on a facade of modesty, Lucius sent her another dashing smile. "Not at all, Minister," he objected. "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"And we're all grateful you were."

Lucius could hint a faint tone of unwillingness in the woman's voice, and he resisted the urge to sneer. That's right, he thought. Grovel before me. Lucius knew that the Minister was very well aware of how much influence he had over the Ministry, and he certainly knew she didn't like it, which just served to make the game all the more enjoyable.

"Well, it has been lovely lunching with you, dear," Lucius suddenly said, adding the endearment just to annoy the woman, "But I'm afraid I must be off."

"Of course," the Minister said, rising from her seat. "You're a busy man, Mr. Malfoy."

You have no idea, he thought. "We all have to do our parts," he told her with another one of his dashing smiles, and then left.

Walking through the Ministry, heading towards his own office, Lucius let his thoughts wonder. He had been sceptical to his wife's decision to help her cousin - the man _had_ been sent to Azkaban, and they had quite frankly been on different sides in the war. Had Lucius been the one to decide, Sirius Black would have been sent back to Azkaban. Alas, he didn't get to decide - one of the dangers being married to a strong-willed wife. Thankfully, things had worked out in the end. Or, well, they were on the way to, at least. He really couldn't have planned things better himself; now it would be known he had a hand in proving Black innocent, and once the story of Harry Potter came out... His reputation would get quite the boost.

* * *

><p>Not for the first time, Narcissa was questioning her decision to bring Cassiopeia to Sirius and Harry. The two women had busied themselves the entire morning going through Draco's old things. Now, Draco wasn't exactly large for his age, but Narcissa was certain the things her darling boy had worn when he was five would be a little large for eight year old Harry. The only thing stopping her from invading Grimmauld Place and force food into that skinny little boy was the knowledge that Sirius' house-elf had made it his life mission to feed Harry.<p>

After many a disagreements about the clothes - it became clear that Narcissa and Cassiopeia had very different opinions on pretty much everything - they managed to pick out two pairs of trousers, four shirts as well as underwear and socks. They also settled on a pair of robes, more out of appropriateness rather than belief that he'd actually get to wear it.

"Once Sirius is freed, I will hex him into the next oblivion if he doesn't buy the child proper clothes," Cassiopeia said, watching the house-elf pack their things up, and Narcissa couldn't help but agree.

"I've made him promise he will," she assured her great-aunt. The house-elves finished packing, and handed the bag to Narcissa. She dismissed them with an airy thank you, and then offered her arm to the elderly woman. "Shall we?"

The two women linked arms, and together they took the floo to their destination.

* * *

><p>Sitting on the couch in the living room of Grimmauld Place 12, Sirius by his side and Harry curled up in an arm-chair, Remus leaned back, intent on relaxing. There would be none of that, however, because the fire-place flared, and two women walked out in the living room. Remus immediately recognized Narcissa - that blonde hair and arrogant posture was hard to mistake - but the other woman, elderly and possibly even more haughty than Mrs. Malfoy, was unknown to him.<p>

Feeling all his muscles tense, the wolf in him reacting to the intruders, Remus glanced at Sirius. As the gaunt man didn't even bat an eyelash at the two women, Remus began to relax a bit. Just a bit.

"What are you two doing here?" Sirius asked, but there was no real hostility, in neither his voice nor his posture.

The elderly woman scoffed. "Still no manners on you, I see," she said, her nose in the air.

"Of course not."

Rolling her eyes with a sigh, Narcissa interfered before the two could get started for real. "Great-aunt Cassiopeia," she called, getting the woman's attention, and then gestured towards the still tense Remus, "This is Remus Lupin, a... friend of Sirius." She gave Remus a speculative look. "Remus, this is Cassiopeia Black, Sirius' great-aunt on his mother's side, and my great-aunt on my father's side."

Nodding, Remus nodded and held his hand out towards the elderly woman. She gave him a haughty look down her nose, her lips pursed. Her eyes were cold and calculating, silently challenging him to look away. Remus, having dealt with alpha males before, managed to keep his cool. After several moments the woman nodded in appreciation, and shook his hand.

"Pleasure," she said, sounding unconvincing, and Remus couldn't help but feel like he'd passed some sort of test. The woman then turned to Harry, who was still curled up in his chair. "Are you eating properly, boy?"

Sinking deeper into his chair, blushing red, the boy mumbled something that sounded affirmative.

Sirius let out a chuckle. "Don't worry, auntie," he said to the elderly woman, a mischievous grin on his face. "Kreacher barely lets him out of his sight."

Narrowing her eyes at her great-nephew, Cassiopeia gave him a pointed look. "You'd do well to eat more, too," she criticised. "You look like a stick someone has spelled some hair on."

As the two Blacks cheerfully traded insults, Remus glanced at Narcissa. "Are they always like this?" he asked as Sirius laughed at an especially nasty comment from Cassiopeia.

Narcissa sighed. "I've only seen them in the same room for a few days, but yes, it does seem that way." She shook her head. "They really shouldn't be so crude in front of Harry."

Sirius suddenly turned to Narcissa, a grin still on his lips. "Don't be such a prude, 'Cissa. Harry's a lot tougher than you think he is."

"He certainly doesn't look it," Cassiopeia cut in, giving the child a critical look over. "He looks like a strong gust of wind could easily push him over."

Pulling the child into his lap, Sirius put his arms protectively around him. "Don't you pick on Prongslet, you harpy," he defended the child with a grin. "He managed to throw Pollux of his feet, you know."

"Yes, he told me of it. Accidental magic, was it?"

Sirius nodded, but before he could respond Narcissa cut in. "How come I haven't heard of that?" she asked, an amused smile playing on her lips. "It sounds like a lovely story."

"As lovely as your husband getting caught in their little trap, don't you think?" Cassiopeia shot back, immediately rushing to the defence of her brother.

Narcissa turned her pale eyes onto Sirius. "How come she knows of that, but I don't know Harry used accidental magic on Pollux?"

Resting his chin on top of Harry's head, Sirius shrugged. "Pollux's just as big a gossip as Cassie?"

Cassiopeia snorted. "Trust me, he's worse."

Shaking his head, Remus sat back down on the couch. "I'm just going to leave you three to it," he told them with a tiny smile as he leaned back into the couch.

Sirius grinned at him. "Join in, instead," he prompted. "Much more fun that way."

Rolling her eyes at the gaunt man, Narcissa turned to Harry, trying to regain some control over the situation. "Harry," she said with a gentle smile, not wanting to frighten the child, "me and Cassiopeia has brought some clothes for you. Would you like to try them on?"

"Merlin's pants, 'Cissa," Sirius blurted out, "you didn't have to do that."

"I'm not talking to you, Sirius, I'm talking to Harry. Beside, they're Draco's old clothes, so there's no trouble."

Harry suddenly got a vivid mental image of Dudley, large and mean, and all the over-sized clothes he'd have to wear throughout his life, and his eyes widened in something akin to horror. Cassiopeia, quick to read the boy's reaction, connected the dots in her head and felt something tug at her heart-strings.

"Don't worry, kid," she assured him, as well as she could. "They'll just be temporary, until your godfather has time to buy you your own clothes."

"And they should just be a tad bit too large, because you are quite tiny for your age, and Draco is a lot larger than you."

"Sorry," Harry mumbled, miserable, hoping that the ground would just hurry up and swallow him so he could disappear.

Cassiopeia gave him a pointed look. "You've done nothing to apologize for, Harry," she said. "Remember that."

Remus, feeling the tense atmosphere and seeing Harry seemed to be close to tears, decided to change the subject a bit. "So, what kind of clothes did you bring, Narcissa?" He knew it was bold of him, but he thought he could call the woman by her first name by now.

Narcissa gave him a look, eyebrows slightly raised. "Nothing spectacular, just a few shirts and pairs of pants. Oh, and we also brought socks and underwear, as well as a robe."

Sirius furrowed his brows. "Why on earth would he need a robe?"

Ignoring his question, the blonde woman turned to Harry again. "How about you and I go upstairs and let you try out the clothes, hm?"

"Merlin's pants, woman, he's a big boy - he can change clothes on his own."

Narcissa shot him a nasty look, opening her mouth to reply, but Remus cut in before they could get started. "How about I take that," he said and took the bag from Narcissa, "and follow Harry upstairs. Sirius, you have any clean rooms on the first floor?"

Still glaring at his cousin, Sirius nodded. "The first one to the right of the stairs should be all right."

Remus nodded, and held out a hand towards Harry. "Shall we, then?"

The child hesitantly grabbed his hand, and then let himself be led away from the cousins and their great-aunt. The trip up the stairs was silent, almost uncomfortably so, but Harry refused to let go of Remus' hand. They finally reached the room Sirius had mentioned, which turned out to be a guest room. Handing Harry the bag, Remus smiled down at the boy.

"I'll wait out here," he promised, and opened the door.

Harry hesitantly stepped into the room, giving Remus a last, wild-eyed look, and then he closed the door after him. Setting down the bag on the bed, he quickly undressed, letting his old, oversized clothes fall to the ground. After another moment of thought, he then stripped until he was completely naked, remembering that Narcissa had mentioned underwear.

He took a moment to inspect the clothes - the pants were soft and black, and the shirts seemed awfully expensive to him. He'd never worn anything like it in his life. Even the socks were softer than anything he'd ever worn, and Harry felt an irrational surge of fear. What if Narcissa decided she wanted the clothes back?

"How's it going, Harry?"

Startled at the sudden sound of Remus voice, Harry managed to mumbled out a response. "I-I'm done," he said, and slowly opened the door. Head hanging, he walked out to the waiting man.

Remus looked him over. "The pants are a bit long, aren't they?" he asked, scratching his chin.

Blushing, Harry nodded. "Sorry," he then added, hoping Remus wasn't mad with him.

"It's nothing to worry about, Harry," Remus assured him, putting a hand on his back. "I'll just fix them for you later."

Remus gathered the bag and Harry's old clothes, and then the two of them went back down into the living room. As they entered, Narcissa, who was sitting on the couch now, turned around and gave the now properly dressed Harry a bright smile.

"You look lovely, darling," she assured him. "Does the clothes fit well?"

The shy boy nodded quickly, half hiding himself behind Remus' legs. He wished he could go to Sirius, but Cassiopeia was sitting in the way, and he didn't dare to go past the elderly woman.

"The pants were a bit too long," Remus told the woman, gently putting his hand on Harry's head, "but it's nothing I can't fix up later."

Narcissa's eyebrows rose. "You know how to sew?"

Remus gave her a wry smile. "I've lived a long time on my own, Mrs. Malfoy," he told her. "One picks up certain things after a while." He glanced at Sirius, who gave him a very knowing look. Remus had had accidents with ruined clothes before, and had never had the means to buy new ones all the time.

Realizing there was something being left out, Narcissa still delicately let the subject drop, not wanting to pry. Not yet, anyway.

"Well," Cassiopeia suddenly said, drawing their attention to herself, "I say it's time for me and dear 'Cissa to leave," she explained while standing up, not even giving the blonde woman time to object. She held out her arm towards her great-niece. "Come on, dear. You can visit them again tomorrow."

Ignoring how the woman treated her like a child, Narcissa bid her farewells to Sirius and Remus, and pulled Harry into a soft hug. The child stiffened, and Narcissa promised herself to hug him more often. "Take care of yourself, dear," she ordered him with a small smile, shooting Sirius a sly glance. "And take care of your godfather, too, will you?"

The child nodded, a serious look on his face. Narcissa gave him one last smile, and then joined Cassiopeia for their floo-travel.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: And another chapter is up. Woohoo! And before anyone start complaining, Fudge didn't become Minister for Magic until 1990, and right now this fic is set in 1988, which means Millicent Bagnold, or Millionth Magnolia, as spell check suggests, was Minister at the time. Other than that, spell-check hasn't anything new to add.


	13. Breakfast

**Disclaimer**: I bought it.

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><p>He liked to keep it a secret, but Arcturus knew he was just as bookish as his cousin Pollux sometimes. While he had never been in danger of becoming a Ravenclaw, he'd still had his fair share of thirst for knowledge, a habit that had stayed with him throughout his years.<p>

With careful hands he closed the book he had been reading, almost absent-mindedly stroking the leathery cover as he put it back in the bookcase. It was a lovely book, but his mind wasn't into reading that night. There was too much going on, too much to think on, for him to be able to focus properly on his reading, and all of it could be traced to his grandson.

He still wasn't as convinced as his cousins, Pollux and Cassiopeia, that it was the right choice to help the man. It was true that it now seemed Sirius had been falsely accused and imprisoned, but he had wilfully left the Black family years before that. In Arcturus opinion, Sirius had made his choice the moment he left Grimmauld Place 12, breaking the heart of his mother, to stay with the Potters. Only Orion's reasoning had stopped Walburga from blasting Dorea from the family tree.

Sighing, Arcturus sat down by his desk, carefully rubbing at his temples. He knew that if he'd been the one in charge, Sirius would have to find someone else to help him. He had betrayed the Blacks; he had no right to expect help from them.

Still, he knew the decision wasn't his; both Pollux and Cassiopeia had seemingly decided that it was time to forgive their black sheep, and Arcturus knew he wouldn't stand a chance against the siblings teamed up together. He would just have to wait and see if Sirius was really worthy of becoming a true Black again.

* * *

><p>Andromeda Tonks, née Black, considered her life quite normal and uneventful. Having grown up in a Black household with a family like hers, she welcomed and embraced the calmness eagerly; there was no one shouting at her, there was no one trying to hex her while she wasn't looking, and there was no one who complained when she walked around in her home in her most comfortable clothes - a pair of loose cotton pants and a t-shirt - and ate dinner in the living room. True, she became bored every now and then, but her wonderful, amazing husband Ted always found ways to amuse her.<p>

Andromeda loved her life, and she hadn't thought about her family for ages, which made her completely unprepared for the shock when she read the newspaper that afternoon. She, along with everyone else, had simply assumed Sirius had shown his true colours as a Black, and hadn't questioned it when he was sent to Azkaban. It had seemed not even being placed in Gryffindor had saved him.

But now... She reread the article, making sure she hadn't misread anything. No, it was all there; the supposedly dead Peter Pettigrew had been found and questioned, and the Prophet seemed to have had a field day, digging up all the details from a crime no one had thought to question seven years ago.

Eyebrows furrowing, Andromeda narrowed her eyes at the article. If what the reporter was suggesting was true, it seemed that she would owe Sirius the largest apology, ever.

"Everything all right, dear?" Ted's voice pulled her out of her thoughts, and she turned to find him watching her from the doorway, a slight line of worry creasing his forehead.

Andromeda quickly shut the newspaper. "Of course," she answered, perhaps a bit too quickly, and folded the Prophet, feeling quite silly about making sure the headlines weren't visible as she put it down on the table. "I was just thinking, that's all."

She knew he suspected that wasn't all, but thankfully he didn't question, and she gratefully let him lead the conversation elsewhere, changing the topic to their daughter. Still, Andromeda couldn't quite put the Prophet's words out of her mind, and the thoughts lingered with her throughout the day, even far into the night. She knew she was going to read the newspaper a lot the next few days.

* * *

><p>"Okay, Prongslet," Sirius said, "it's time for you to go to bed."<p>

Remus expected the child to protest, but realized it was foolish of him to do so. Harry hadn't acted like a normal, healthy child before; why should he start now? Confirming his thoughts, the child stifled a yawn and nodded, letting Sirius lead him up the stairs to the topmost rooms. Shaking his head, Remus followed, thoughts about what could have made Harry like that swirling around his head.

"Hey, Moony," Sirius called, getting the attention of his long-time friend, "was there any pyjamas or anything in that bag 'Cissa brought?"

"I think so, yeah," Remus answered, remembering seeing something looking like a pyjamas earlier. Rummaging through the bag, he quickly found it - silken and dark green - and handed it to Harry with a smile.

The child, seemingly too tired to care about modesty, quickly changed, discarding his other clothes on the floor. Then he climbed into the bed, letting Sirius pulled the covers up over him.

"Trust 'Cissa to try and make a slytherin out of him," Sirius chuckled, giving Remus an amused glance as he sat down on the child's bed.

Remus rolled his eyes, opting to lean against the wall, not wanting to interrupt their moment. He watched how Sirius gently stroked the child over the hair, smiling softly.

"You okay there, Prongslet?" the man asked, earning himself a wide yawn in response.

"Yeah," Harry answered after a moment, shifting a bit under the covers so he could reach up and give the man a hug. "G'night, Padfoot."

"Night, Prongslet."

Sirius stood up, giving Harry a last, soft pat on the head, and then went for the door. Remus made a move to follow him, when Harry suddenly called out to him.

"R-Remus," he said, voice soft and hesitant. "C-can I - can I get a h-hug?"

Honestly surprised at the child's request - he would have thought Harry too shy for such a thing - Remus still complied, walking up to the bed. He leaned down, and to his further surprise Harry threw his arms around him, clinging to him like his life depended on it. Remus gently wrapped his arms around the child, and seconds later they let go. Harry laid back down on the bed, and Remus rose, intent on leaving.

Harry was having none of that. "H-how did you and Padfoot get to know each other?"

Blinking at the sudden question, Remus turned back to the child. "We were sorted into the same house in Hogwarts." He sat down on the bed. "As were your parents, James and Lily."

"Did you know them well?"

Remus smiled. "I did," he confirmed. "James and Sirius became inseparable from the second they met, and they somehow managed to drag me into it, too. Before long the four of us had become a group; Me, your father James, Sirius and... and Peter."

Harry gave him a curious look. "Not my mother?"

Laughing, Remus shook his head. "No, not your mother. She had other friends, much to James' chagrin."

A thoughtful expression on his face, Harry sank back into his pillow, and Remus couldn't help but wonder what Sirius had told him of their school days.

Shifting so he was lying on his side, face away from Remus, Harry let out a small sigh. "Remus," he said after a while, "why did you leave Padfoot?"

Out of everything the child could've asked, that was what he was least prepared for, and Remus found he had no immediate answer. Swallowing, he wrecked his mind for memories of a time he'd much rather forget. "I thought he was guilty," he admitted after a moment of silence, "and I thought there was nothing left for me here in Britain. So I left." Quite frankly, he didn't know why he was telling Harry this.

Harry stifled a yawn. "Will you leave again?"

Reminded of Narcissa making him promise not to steal Sirius from the child, Remus smiled wanly. "No, Harry," he assured the child, who was now half asleep. "I won't leave again."

"Good," the child mumbled, and seconds later he was asleep.

Remus carefully rose from the bed, tip-toed out of the room and closed the door behind him. He had quite a lot on his mind, and he had a feeling he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight.

* * *

><p>"This is quite late for a social call, don't you think?" Arcturus asked without looking up from his book.<p>

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes and sat herself down in an arm-chair opposite from his desk. "Since when has that ever stopped me?"

A tiny smile tugged at the elderly man's lips, and he finally looked up at his cousin. "No, I suppose you're right," he agreed. "You only obey social rules when they suit you."

"Exactly."

They shared a chuckle, and then Arcturus pinned his cousin with a calculating look. "I heard you and Narcissa were at Grimmauld Place earlier today," he said, carefully watching her reactions.

The woman shrugged. "Narcissa had some clothes for Harry, and I went with her."

A look of disgust passed over Arcturus face. "You're clothing him now, too?"

"Don't be like that, Artie," Cassiopeia admonished him. "We couldn't very well let him continue to wear those rags, and Sirius isn't in any position to buy him new clothes just yet."

"That doesn't mean you have to do it, either."

Cassiopeia gave him a look. "He is under the care of Sirius, who is a Black. Of course I should help them out."

"Sirius never wanted to be a Black, or have you forgotten that?" Arcturus reminded her, just a faint undertone of anger in his voice.

She frowned at him. "And Narcissa is technically no longer a Black, yet you wouldn't complain had it been her I was helping."

"Narcissa entered a respectable marriage arranged by her parents; Sirius left on his own accord, intent on never returning. There's a large difference there, dear cousin."

Cassiopeia scoffed. "There's nothing respectable about the Malfoys," she muttered. "And whether you want it or not Walburga named Sirius her heir, which means _she_ thought it good enough to name him a Black again." It made quite the argument; Walburga had despised her eldest son ever since he left. Her reinstating him as her heir said quite a lot, in Cassiopeia's opinion.

"Walburga was mad with grief; she'd just lost Regulus, and didn't want to lose Sirius, too."

"She was mad, all right," Cassiopeia agreed, "but also very level headed when it came to decisions of that magnitude. She knew exactly what she was doing when she made him her heir again." The woman leaned back in her chair, rolling her eyes. "This is going nowhere, Arcturus. We could argue about Pollux's darling all night."

Sighing, the elderly man agreed. "I just do not understand why you're going out of your way to help him, that is all."

Cassiopeia raised her eyebrow at her cousin. "He is family," she pointed out. "You should be helping him, too."

Arcturus gave her a dark look. "He lost the right to call us family the day he walked away."

Rolling her eyes, Cassiopeia helped herself to the bottle of wine standing on Arcturus desk. Pouring herself a glass, she gave him an arched look. "You know very well he didn't do that on a whim, Artie."

Ignoring her comment, Arcturus took the bottle from her and conjured a glass for himself. "And you!" he said. "Doting on them like some sort of grandmother."

"What can I say?" Cassiopeia chuckled, taking a sip from her wine. "I have a soft spot for children."

"Cassie, you hate children," Arcturus reminded her, a faint smile twisting his lips.

"I hate noisy children. Little Harry is none of the sort."

This time it was Arcturus who rolled his eyes. "I do hope you're aware this is because the muggles who raised him hasn't done their job properly?"

Cassiopeia's look turned dark. "It's awful," she commented over her wine, "that a child of a family like the Potters could be allowed to be placed with _muggles_, regardless of their relation."

Giving his cousin a speculative look, Arcturus took a sip of his wine. "You care for the boy," he accused her calmly.

She didn't even bother to contradict him. "It is hard not to, I've realized," she admitted. "There's something about him that just makes you want to help him."

Arcturus shook his head. "You are the last person one would expect to say that." A smile formed on his lips. "I don't think even Pollux would be prepared for that."

Cassiopeia chuckled. "That would be a sight to see, wouldn't it?" she said. She put her now empty wine glass down on the table. "I think that's quite enough for tonight," she admitted and stood up. "I must be off, dear cousin."

They bid each other farewell, and Arcturus, like the gentleman he was, led Cassiopeia to the floo. He watched his cousin leave, and then went back to his study, mind swirling with thoughts.

* * *

><p>Pouring over documents in his office, Lucius was deep in thought. His influence in the Ministry helped their case out a lot - even the Minister listened to his advice - but he knew they weren't out of the woods just yet. There were still people who doubted the truth in Pettigrew's confession, mostly because they knew Lucius was involved with it. He had heard rumours that people thought he was only doing it to help his fellow death eater Sirius Black out.<p>

He had to scoff at that; the only reason he was doing this was because of his wife, and nothing else. If Narcissa wanted to play family with mad men, all he could do was to sigh in exasperation and let her.

Smiling absent-mindedly at the thought of his wife, Lucius reread the note from a certain Amelia Bones. He had cautiously approached the woman, knowing she held no love for him, with hope that she would sympathize with Sirius' case. The woman had, above all, a reputation of fairness and justice, and if Madame Bones declared Black innocent, the people would believe it.

She had been apprehensive at first, clearly suspicious of his motives, but not even she could argue with the evidence; Sirius Black was innocent. Thankfully, Madame Bones - even though she could easily recognize the damage this could have on the people's trust in the Ministry - felt that she could work together with Lucius in order for justice to be served. Lucius took a moment to fully appreciate the irony of it all, a small chuckle escaping his lips.

Leaning back in his chair, he allowed himself a moment of rest from his reading. The Ministry had sent out their owl to Black, summoning him to a trial seven years overdue, and now all that remained was to watch the events fold out. He took a moment to hope nothing went wrong - there was so much that could - and that no one was angry enough at either Lucius or Black to foil their plans. For some reason, he had doubts in his own hope.

* * *

><p>Sirius woke up that morning like every other morning. Harry had snuck into his bed during the night, and the two of them quietly made their way down to the living room, Harry clad in his new, not nearly as oversized as his old, clothes. He looked quite good in them, Sirius assured his godson, restraining himself from chuckling at how snobbish the clothes made him look at first glance.<p>

They took a detour past Remus room, the man glaring up at them from his bed with bleary eyes as they forced him to get up to join them for breakfast. "Why on earth do we have to be up this early?" the man complained as he followed them down the stairs.

Sirius grinned. "Payback for all those years you dragged me out of bed for class."

Groaning, Remus seriously considered hexing the man. He would have, if it hadn't required reaching for his wand and actually focusing enough to send off a hex. He was far too tired for that. Collapsing on the couch as soon as they reached the living room, he groaned again, burrowing his face in one of the cushions.

Laughing, Sirius sat down next to him as Harry climbed up in his usual arm-chair. He called for Kreacher, who appeared with a reflexive derogatory comment about Sirius' childhood, and ordered breakfast for the three of them. "Make a double portion for Remus," he told the elf, knowing his friend tended to get a bit hungry in the morning.

Accompanied by an approving noise from Remus' direction, the house-elf popped out of view again, going back to the kitchen. Sirius leaned back in the couch, still smiling. Harry gave him an almost accusing look.

"He's going to give me too much food again," he prophesized with a pout. He was curled up, hugging his legs against his chest, resting his chin on his knees.

Sirius gave him a lopsided grin. "There's no thing as too much food, Prongslet."

A scoff came from the general direction of Remus. "He should be feeding you, too," the man said, turning around so he was lying on his back on the couch. "You're too skinny." He tried to sound serious, but the yawn sort of ruined the effect.

Seconds later Kreacher appeared again, carrying three plates, which he set down in front of the three inhabitants of the house. As ordered, Remus' portion was way bigger than both Harry's and Sirius'.

"Watch it, Moony," Sirius chuckled. "You're drooling."

They began their breakfast, each devouring their food in silence; Harry, while glancing around him suspiciously; Remus, as if he hadn't eaten in days; Sirius, lazily poking his food around, occasionally taking a bite.

There came a sudden tapping sound, and they all looked up to see an owl pecking at one of the windows. Opening the window, Sirius stared at it with surprise and suspicion as the owl settled down in front of his plate, staring almost accusingly at him.

Looking closer at the owl, Remus frowned. "It's from the Ministry," he said, recognizing the envelope.

Even more suspicious now, Sirius took the letter from the bird, waving it away from the table with his hand. After a moment of hesitation, and a shared glance with Remus, he broke the seal of the envelope.

He immediately paled. Swallowing, he realized his mouth had suddenly gone very dry.

"What is it, Padfoot?" Harry asked, voice full of worry.

Sirius swallowed again, and looked up at the child who was staring at him with wide, concerned eyes. He glanced at Remus. "It's a summoning to a trial." A humourless smile formed on his lips. "My trial."

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><p><strong>AN**: Dun dun dun _duuun_! So, yeah. A new chapter, and a new name has been introduced: We are happy to welcome Dromedary Black to our midst. I hope she will enjoy her stay.


	14. Anger

**Disclaimer**: For some strange, strange reason, I don't own this.

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><p>To say Sirius was angry was an understatement. "Seven years," he fumed. "Seven years, and only now do they have the <em>nerve<em> to ask me to come to a trial!" The Ministry letter was crumpled up in his hand, and it almost looked like he wanted to throw it at someone. That, or set it on fire.

Remus carefully laid an hand on the furious man's shoulder. "Calm down, Sirius," he urged. "It won't do any good to lose your temper now."

The look Sirius gave his friend was enough to send lesser men cowering away, but Remus remained firm. His amber eyes were serious and imploring, silently begging Sirius to calm down. A few shaky, deep breaths later, and Sirius at least tried to please his friend.

"I won't go," he said through clenched teeth. "The Ministry can go fuck themselves. I'm not setting my foot in that place, not for a million galleons."

Remus gave him a hard look. "So you're going to remain a fugitive, then? Living on the run, hiding?"

"It's worked before," Sirius insisted stubbornly.

"And what about Harry?" That seemed to shake him. "Are you going to take him with you? Force him to live your life, never knowing if something will separate you?"

Sirius' mouth opened and closed several times, but the man couldn't seem to find anything to say. What could he say? "Prongslet will be just fine," he said, but it sounded weak even to his own ears.

"No he won't, Sirius." Remus gave him a pleading look. "Iff you won't do this for yourself, do it for Harry; once you're free there's nothing stopping you from claiming guardianship over him." He felt like he was grasping for straws, and he desperately hoped the gaunt man would listen to him.

"For Harry..." Sirius mumbled, and his eyes were suddenly lost in memories. "I was supposed to be his guardian, you know," he said, eyes unfocused, voice uneven. "It said so in Ja- in _their_ will."

"I know," Remus said, gently laying an arm around Sirius' shoulders. He led the man back to the couch, and they sat down.

Sirius buried his face in his hands. "Everything went so wrong, Moony," he mumbled through his fingers.

Remus sighed. "I know, Padfoot," he said. "I know."

Silence settled over the room, heavy and full of doubts and secrets. Remus could feel his wolf's edginess, could practically sense the animal pacing back and forth inside his mind. He felt a bit like pacing himself, too, everything gnawing on his mind. He wasn't nearly as sure about the Ministry's letter as he made an effort to appear.

Suddenly he registered movement in his peripheri, and he glanced to the side to see Harry hesitantly approaching his godfather. The boy had a worried expression on his face, and Remus thought he could even sense a hint of fear in the bright green eyes. They really were Lily's eyes, he thought with a faint hint of loss.

The child carefully walked up to Sirius, and after another moment of silence, he seemed to steel himself, and then he crawled up into a surprised Sirius' lap. Head leaning against the man's shoulder, the boy wrapped his tiny arms around him.

Sirius looked surprised at first, but then his expression mellowed, and a small, wan smile appeared on his lips. He gently stroked the boy's hair with one hand, pulling him closer with the other.

"It's okay, Prongslet," he murmured, and Remus was surprised at how calm the man sounded. "Nothing's going to happen to us."

"Promise?" the child asked, voice muffled by Sirius' shirt.

"I promise."

He didn't know quite why, but for some reason Remus mentally made it his personal mission to make sure that nothing, indeed, would happen to them. He didn't care what he might have to do, or who he might have to oppose; he would risk _everything_ to make sure that promise was kept.

* * *

><p>Pollux arrived through the floo of Grimmauld Place 12 later that night, a grim expression on his face. "Hello, Harry," he greeted the child. "Where is Sirius?"<p>

Harry, who was still a bit afraid of the elderly man, looked like he wanted to hide behind his arm-chair. "He's in the kitchen," he mumbled, wishing either Sirius or Remus – or better yet, both – would come.

His prayers were answered, for soon Remus came through the door, body tense and eyes narrowed. He was eyeing Pollux with thinly veiled suspicion as he walked closer, only stopping when he was standing in between Harry and Pollux.

"Can I help you?" he asked, closely following Pollux's every move.

The elderly man raised an eyebrow. "And who are you?" he asked.

"It's all right, both of you," Sirius answered before Remus had a chance. The man was leaning against the door-way, his expression tired and grim. "Remus, this is Pollux, my grand-father. Pollux, meet Remus, and old... friend."

The two men stared each other down, Pollux the image of an arrogant aristocrat, Remus shabbier, more rugged and far more feral. Eventually the elderly man spoke.

"Charming," he said, giving Remus a look of contempt before he turned to Sirius. "I trust you have gotten your summons, yes?"

A poorly concealed flinch racked Sirius frame. "I shouldn't be surprised you know about that, should I?" he muttered, more to himself than anything.

Pollux ignored his comment. "The trial is in three days from now," he said, even though he technically shouldn't know that. "This should give us enough time to prepare you and to secure our case."

"What's there to secure?" Sirius muttered. "They have Wo- _Pettigrew_, don't they?"

The elderly man's smile was grim. "You were trained as an auror, and you still don't know little the truth can mean in the Ministry?"

Sirius just glared at him, crossing his arms over his chest. His posture was meant to appear relaxed, but he couldn't hide the tenseness in his shoulder, nor the lines that creased his forehead. Remus, who was watching his friend – all while being careful not to let Pollux out of his view – frowned. Sirius might say things were all right, but it was far too obvious they were not, and Remus found himself unable to fully calm himself down. His wolf was reacting to Sirius' miserable state, making him agitated and restless.

Pollux glanced at Harry for a split second. "Perhaps we should have this discussion... elsewhere?" he intoned, raising his eyebrows and his grandson. He didn't think the subject would be suitable for such a young child.

Guessing his train of thought, Sirius quickly rose to the defence of his godson. "Whatever you have to say, Harry can hear it," he said in a tone that allowed no discussion. "I will not keep him in the dark."

He didn't agree, but he also knew he wouldn't be able to sway the man – not this time – so Pollux agreed with a sigh. "Let us be seated, then," he said, gesturing towards the two couches. "We have a lot to discuss."

* * *

><p>Pollux hadn't been lying; there <em>was<em> a lot to discuss. The whole situation had been tense at first, with Remus openly mistrusting Pollux, Sirius openly moping and Pollux being impatient. Harry had all but been forgotten, still sitting curled up in his arm-chair as the three men argued back and forth about Sirius' trial and eventual release. The whole thing frightened Harry more than he liked to admit to himself – what if Sirius' _wasn't_ proved innocent? What if they sent him back to prison again?

He didn't even dare think of what that would mean for him; he had had too many nightmares about his aunt and uncle. He didn't want to go back to them, didn't want to go back to that life.

Sirius snapped angrily at something Pollux had said, and Harry wished he could be somewhere else. Acting upon that wish, he slowly began to slide down from his arm-chair, hoping he would be able to leave unnoticed.

He had no such luck.

"Where are you going, Harry?" Remus asked. His voice was kind, but Harry still flinched.

"To the kitchen," the child mumbled, driven by an impulse, and before any of the men could answer, let alone stop him, he fled the room, quickly navigating his way down to the kitchen. The house was dark, but Harry didn't have any troubles finding his way.

Once in the kitchen, Harry began to doubt his decision, feeling the darkness press down on him. Maybe he should just go back up...

"What is Mister Harry Potter Boy doing down here?"

Kreacher's suspicious voice startled him more than it should have, and he flinched. "I-I don't know," he admitted, subconciously hugging himself.

A small light appeared in the elf's hand, reflecting of his large, yellow eyes. "Is Mister Harry Potter Boy hungry?"

He really wasn't, but he was in no mood to explain himself to the elf. He felt guilty about lying, the feeling gnawing at his insides, but for once he ignored it. "Y-yeah," he said. "I'm a little hungry."

The elf gave him another suspicious look, but to Harry's relief he didn't say anything and went to make the child a night-time snack. Thankful for the distraction, Harry climbed into one of the chairs that surrounded the large dining table, resting his head on the table's smooth surface. A moment later Kreacher served him a sandwhich he knew he would never manage to get down, and he thanked the elf as he listlessly pushed the sandwhich around on the plate.

Kreacher disappeared with an audible pop, and Harry was grateful for the silence that followed. Taking a small bite from his sandwhich, he pretended he couldn't hear the arguing voices from upstairs.

* * *

><p>Never quite able to find common ground, both Sirius and Pollux none the less decided that they both had had enough. It had become late, and Pollux had no intentions of staying the night. Bidding Sirius and Remus a polite, if a little stiff, farewell, he flooed away, leaving heavy silence behind.<p>

Remus opened his mouth as if to speak, changed his mind, and closed it again. It was no use trying to reason with Sirius now, not when the man was so riled up. Instead he leaned back into the couch, letting his head fall down on the backrest. Feeling a headache coming on, he gently massaged his temples with the tip of his fingers in an attempt to stave it off.

Sirius wasn't nearly as relaxed as Remus appeared to be; his whole body was stiff, shoulders tense, and his face was grim enough to make a dragon hesitate. In moments like these Azkaban hung lowly over his head, revealing herself in his lines and eyes. Remus felt a familiar pang of guilt at the thought, but quickly pushed it away. It would do him no good now.

Finally, Sirius moved. A sigh escaped his lips, and his shoulders began to slouch. "I-" he began, hesitating, "I should get Harry to bed."

Quite sure it wasn't what the man had intended to say, Remus let it pass with a nod. "Good night," he said, suddenly feeling very tired.

Nodding, Sirius then left the room, stalking through the dark rooms of his childhood home in order to find Harry. It wasn't hard; the child was sitting in the kitchen, a half-eaten sandwhich lying on a plate before him.

"Prongslet?"

Harry flinched at the sudden sound, and looked up at Sirius with large eyes.

Trying – and probably failing – to smile comfortingly, Sirius held out his arms towards the child. "Come," he said. "It's time for bed."

At first he hesitated, biting his lips, but then Harry seemed to make up his mind about something, and he rushed to Sirius open arms, clinging to the man. Sirius was a little surprised at the intensity, but quickly returned the embrace. Human contact had been scarce in Azkaban, and Sirius had found himself to be starved of it. He gently lifted the too small child up, letting him starfish himself around his midsection. Without further ado, he began to walk up the stairs, going all the way up to the topmost floor.

He paused for a second at the two doors, eyes narrowing, and then he chose the one leading to his room, bringing Harry with him. The child didn't complain as he set him down on the bed. Summoning Harry's pajamas, Sirius politely turned around as the child changed, taking the opportunity to transfigure his own clothes into something more suiting, as well.

The two climed down beneath the covers, and Harry snuggled close to his godfather, greedily absorbing the body heat and affection. Laying his arm around the small child, Sirius gently kissed him on top of his head, whispered good night, and then he closed his eyes, slowly letting sleep pull him into her embrace.

* * *

><p>When Harry woke it was still dark. He didn't know how much time had passed, but he was certain morning was still far away. Sirius was snoring softly behind him, chest rising and falling with every breath. His arm was still holding Harry close.<p>

At first Harry tried to fall back asleep, but sleep would not come to him again. Too many thoughts swirled in his head, making it impossible for him to relax. In fact, he didn't even feel tired any longer. After a moment of thought, he slowly began to edge out of Sirius embrace, carefully sliding off the bed. Once he was standing, he glanced back at his godfather. The man was still fast asleep, and Harry tip toed out of the room.

Making his way down the stairs as silently as he could, he wondered what he was doing. He hadn't really thought it through, but for some reason it had felt right. Figuring he could just as well go down to the kitchen, he continued down with his new goal in mind. He could get a glass of water or something.

Reaching the bottom floor, he began to creep through the hallway leading to the stairs to the kitchen, careful not to make any sounds. He was quite good at being silent.

"Isn't it a bit late for a boy your age to be out and about?"

His heart attempting to jump out of his chest, Harry spun around, wildly looking around for the sudden voice. It was no voice he recognized – a woman's voice, sounding stern.

"Up here, boy."

He turned around, and his eyes landed on a large painting of a woman dressed all in black. She had wild, curly black hair and peered down at him with dark eyes. Harry remembered Sirius had told him she had been his mother.

"Well?" the portrait asked, impatience clear in her tone. "What are you doing here?"

Harry blinked. "G-getting a glass of w-water," he managed to stutter. He remembered how the portrait had screamed at them the first time they arrived at Grimmauld Place, and he didn't want to give her chance to scold her.

The woman peered down at him, lips pursed. "Don't lie unless you can make it believing, boy," she said in a tone that reminded him of Cassiopeia.

"Sorry," he mumbled, wondering if he was perhaps crazy, apologizing to a painting like this. True, it was a magic painting, but still.

"Don't apologize," the woman snapped. "It makes you look weak."

"Sorry," he said again, and then realized his mistake. "Uh, I mean, okay?"

She pursed her lips again, but didn't comment on his slip. "That's better," she said, not sounding convincing. "Now, why are you here, boy?"

"I couldn't sleep," Harry admitted, not wanting to risk lying to her again.

The look she gave him was suspicious, but she seemed to deem him truthful enough. Harry was just glad she wasn't shouting or anything; he didn't want to wake Sirius and Remus.

"What's your name, boy?" the portrait asked.

Still not convinced he wasn't crazy, he glanced up at the stern woman. "Harry," he mumbled, quickly averting his eyes.

"Speak up, boy!" the woman ordered impatiently.

"M-my name is Harry," he said, louder this time. He dared to look up at the woman again. "Wh-what's your name?"

The look she gave him was quite arrogant and borderline pompous. "Walburga, of the most noble and ancient house of Black."

Harry gave her a curious look. "Why is it most noble and ancient?" he asked before he could stop himself.

Walburga looked positively shocked at his question, and she seemed to need several moments to compose herself enough to respond. "You mean you are living in this house, the house of my fathers, and you do not know anything?"

Flushing bright red, Harry hung his head. "I do know _some_ things," he protested.

The woman ignored him. "This will simply not do," she concluded, giving Harry a speculative look. "Tell me, child, who were your parents?"

It took him a moment to register her question. "L-Lily and James," he said, unsure what the portrait wanted from him.

"Their surname, boy. What was their family name?"

"P-Potter."

The woman's expression changed, and Harry thought he could see something dark flash by her eyes. "Of course," she mumbled, more to herself than to Harry. "That blasted son of mine would take in _their _child, wouldn't he?"

Harry stared at the woman, not sure of what she was talking about. "Uhm," he began, "what do you mean?"

His words seemed to bring her out of her thoughts, and she smiled down at him in a way that reminded him of Cassiopeia. "Nothing to worry about, dear child," she said, but there was no real warmth in her voice. "Just an old lady's ramblings. Now, you should be heading back to bed, young man. It is very late."

Before Harry had a chance to respond, the curtains fell down over the portrait, obscuring it from view. The silence that followed felt heavy, and it sent a shiver up Harry's spine. Or perhaps it had been because of the portrait.

Either way, Harry had no interest in staying, and so he quickly climbed the stairs, quite intent to go back to bed. He had had enough adventures for one night, thank you very much. In his rush, he didn't notice the figure hidden in the shadows on the first story floor, watching him with intense, amber eyes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Another chapter! Go me. Spell-check hasn't much to add in this one, but that could be because I'm using the school computers, which, for some strange reason, lacks an awesome (and hilarious) spell-check. Ah, well.


	15. Trial

**Disclaimer**: I own everything! (no, I don't.)

* * *

><p>The morning of the day for the trial arrived sooner than they had expected. Breakfast was a subdued affair, with all three of them sitting in the kitchen. The only one really eating was Remus, who was on his second portion. Both Harry and Sirius were just pushing their food around on their plates, heads hanging. Kreacher was watching them from his little nook.<p>

The door to the kitchen opened, and Pollux walked in, shortly followed by Arcturus. "Good morning," he greeted, and the trio around the table mumbled something unintelligble in response. Even Remus didn't greet the new arrivals properly; he was too busy sating his hunger to be bothered with politeness. The fact that he didn't quite like the elder Blacks helped.

"You should get yourself ready, boy," Pollux told the gaunt Sirius. "We're leaving in ten minutes."

Sirius didn't make any move to show that he had heard.

Remus, taking a pause in his eating, glanced up at the elderly man. "What about Harry?" he asked. "He can't come with us to the Ministry."

Head snapping up to stare at his friend, Sirius' eyes narrowed. "Why not?" he demanded.

Sighing, Remus gave him a tired look. "Technically Harry is still supposed to be with the Dursleys," he reminded him. "If someone at the Minsitry sees him, they may very well take him back there."

"Over my dead body."

Harry, whose body had suddenly gone rigid, couldn't help but agree with Sirius. He did _not_ want to go back to his Aunt and Uncle.

Before they could get into an argument about who would stay with the child, Arcturus rolled his eyes and spoke up. "I will stay with the boy," he told them in a tone that brooked no argument. He gave Sirius a serious look. "You should be getting yourself ready," he said, a certain hint of coldness in his tone. "It is time for you to leave."

Ten minutes later they were all standing in the living room. Harry was standing to the side with Arcturus, watching the others with sad eyes. A part of him wanted to believe that this would mean all their problems would be fixed, but another, louder part of him cruelly reminded him that with his luck, nothing would go as planned.

Sirius turned around, his eyes falling onto the morose little boy, and a wan smile spread over his lips. He knelt down and pulled the child into an embrace. "Wait for me, okay?" he said, sounding more confident than he felt. "I'll be back before you know it."

Harry, feeling a familiar sting at the back of his eyes, swallowed the tears away. "O-okay," he mumbled, still clinging to Sirius.

Their embrace lasted for a few more moments, and then Sirius rose again. "Okay, then," he said, looking at Pollux. "Let's go."

The elderly man nodded. "We must drop by Malfoy Manor first and meet up with Lucius, and then we'll go straight to the Ministry."

The tree stepped into the fire-place. Pollux grabbed a handful of floo-powder, threw it to the ground and loudly announced their destination. In a flash they were gone, leaving Harry and Arcturus behind.

* * *

><p>When Sirus, Pollux and Remus arrived at Malfoy Manor, Narcissa and Lucius were waiting for them. Narcissa greeted them warmly, if a bit worriedly. Lucius merely nodded at the three men.<p>

"Let's get this over with," Sirius said, his eyes dark. He looked every bit the convict they were going to prove he wasn't.

Narcissa pursed her lips. "You can't go looking like that," she told him, giving his dirty, rugged clothes a look that spoke volumes. Without asking for permission, she brought out her wand and quickly spelled out the wrinkles, as well as cast a strong _scourgify_ to remove the worst of the dirt.

Sirius gave Lucius a dark look. "Is she always like this?"

Lucius merely smiled as Narcissa shot him a look, daring him to answer that. "Everyone ready?" he asked, ignoring his wife. The three men nodded. "Good. We will be apparating. Pollux, you will go first, followed by Mr. Lupin. Then I and Black will follow after you."

As no one saw any problems with that plan, they all let Lucius lead them to the apparation point on the grounds, where Lucius could lower the wards to let Pollux and Remus out. Giving Lucius a curt nod, Pollux then quickly apparated away. Remus followed after him, sharing a last look with Sirius before he disappeared with a noisy pop.

"Shall we?" Lucius asked, raising an eyebrow at the morose escapee.

"I can apparate myself," Sirius protested, fishing out his wand.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "You're still a convicted criminal, Black," he reminded the man. "You're not supposed to have a wand."

Sirius hadn't thought of that. "Oh," he mumbled in realization. Then, with a careless shrug, he dropped the wand to the ground. "Let's go, then."

Feeling a headache coming on, Lucius pinched the base of his nose. He called for a house-elf, and ordered it to take the discarded wand to Narcissa. Once the elf was gone, Lucius laid a hand on Sirius' arm and apparated away.

As soon as they arrived, they quickly stepped away from each other, neither of them wanting to spend to much time in close proximity of the other. They didn't like each other, after all. Silently reminding himself he was doing this for Narcissa, Lucius began to lead his motley group through the Ministry.

* * *

><p>The Ministry looked much like Sirius remembered it. The atrium still looked the same, with that ridiculous statue taking up his vision. People were milling around, minding their own business, but as soon as their group was noticed, everyone stopped to stare. They whispered amongst each other, eyes wide as they stared openly, and Sirius had to resist the urge to curse someone.<p>

They soon met with a couple of auror guards, neither of whom Sirius recognized, and after a short, quiet chat with Lucius they approached Sirius.

Sirius held out his arms with a mocking grin, offering them his wrists. "Morning," he greeted far too cheerfully. The look one of the guards gave him as they cuffed him was worth it.

"Search him," the other guard ordered, and they roughly searched his clothes, making sure he was wandless.

Only then could they continue on, and the two guards made a show of escorting them, walking on each side of Sirius. Lucius didn't look too pleased about it, and Sirius could hear him whisper with his lawyers about something. He couldn't discern the words, though.

Eventually they reached the right room, and they all walked through the door to courtroom ten. Well inside Sirius was led to a single chair in the middle of the room. As soon as he sat down the shackles snaked around his wrists and ankles, effectively chaining him down. He tested the chains' strength, pulling against them, but they held tight.

Considering the nature of this trial, surprisingly few had turned up. There was a reporter, a few witches and wizards Sirius didn't recognize, Lucius and his band of lawyers, and a few Ministry workers. Amelia Bones sat as judge, surrounded by other members of the wizengamot. Sirius immediately noticed Dumbledore wasn't present, and a feeling of worry began to gnaw at him. What was the old geezer up to?

The door to the courtroom opened again, and Sirius turned his head around in time to see Peter Pettigrew being led in by two aurors.

"_You_," Sirius said, voice low and dangerous, as he glared at the plump man with wild eyes. "I should kill you were you stand."

Pettigrew flinched, and for a second it looked like he was going to bolt for the door. The two aurors made themselves present, however, ushering the little man towards his own chair.

"How could you?" Sirius demanded as Pettigrew was being chained up. "How could you sink so low, _Pettigrew_?" He refused to use their nickname, Wormtail – the vile little man had no rights to that name any more.

The man was visibly nervous; he was shaking, and a pugnant smell of sweat surrounded him. He had dark rings under his eyes, and it looked like he hadn't washed – or slept – for days. Sirius thought it made him look like the filthy little rat he was.

"Does it make you proud," Sirius continued, "to know you betrayed your best friends?"

Pettigrew broke down. "Wh-what could I have d-done?" he asked, half-sobbing. "You have no idea what _h-he's_ like, there was nothing I could do-"

"_You could have died for them_!" Sirius exploded. "Like we would have done for you!"

"Order in the court!" Madame Bones ordered, giving the two prisoners stern looks.

Sirius kept glaring at Pettigrew, but remained silent for now. Pettigrew was silent, too, except for the occasional frightened sob as he vainly struggled against his restraints.

Madame Bones gave them another, warning look before she glanced down at the documents before her. "We have gathered here for the case of a wrongful imprisonment of a Mr. Sirius Orion Black caused by Peter Pettigrew. I now declare the court open."

* * *

><p>It was the waiting Harry found worst. The fact that he had no clear concept of time – he didn't have a watch – made things even more difficult; he couldn't even tell how much time had passed since Sirius had left.<p>

He was sitting in his arm-chair, legs curled up against his body, waiting for time to pass. Arcturus had suggested they go to the kitchen, or even the library, but Harry had stubbornly refused to leave the living room. He kept glancing at the fire-place every now and then, wishing it would light up, wishing Sirius would be back.

Arcturus was sitting on the couch, reading a copy of the Daily Prophet as he waited. He would have preferred to be somewhere else, but he did not want to leave the child alone, not this time. He glanced at the child over the top of his newspaper, eyes narrowed. The boy was, as Cassiopeia often lamented, far too skinny for his age, and Arcturus suspected the child was too short, too, a common result of malnourishment.

Looking back at The Prophet, he frowned. Once Sirius was freed, Arcturus would have to insist he take the child to St. Mungo's for a checkup. He suspected nothing short of nutritional potions would restore the child back to normal.

He glanced at the child again. "Would you like a cup of tea, Harry?"

Flinching at suddenly being spoken to, it took him a few moments to process what the old man had said. "S-sure," he said once he realized what was going on. "I m-mean, yes please."

Arcturus couldn't hinder a small smile. It seemed Cassiopeia had already gotten her claws into the boy. Nodding, he called for the house-elf. "A cup of tea for me and the boy," he ordered, "as well as something small to eat."

The elf nodded dilligently, and seconds later they each had a cup of tea, as well as a plate of bread and jam. Smiling encouragely at the child, Arcturus began eating his own sandwhich, and a few seconds later Harry began to mimic him. The boy only took the smallest of bites, but Arcturus figured that would have to do for now. He would just have to make sure the child ate a lot of lunch, later.

* * *

><p>Albus Dumbledore wasn't an unusual sight at the Minsitry; he was, after all, a part of the Wizengamot, and a close friend to many Ministry-workers. There were even rumours he was going to go for the position of Minister for Magic in a few years, rumours that he used to dismiss with a grandfatherly smile and an offer for lemon drops.<p>

Today Dumbledore was in the Minsitry for business. Business related to the ongoing trial of Sirius Black, and business including aurors.

"Are you sure about this?" Alastor "Mad Eye" Moody questioned dubiously.

"Quite sure, my dear Alastor," the elderly wizard confirmed. "Harry has been missing from his Aunt and Uncle for over a week, now, and it is impertinent that we find him and restore him to his rightful place."

There were several silencing charms, and even a notice-me-not charm around them, all to dissuade potential eavesdroppers. This was information Dumbledore could not risk getting out.

Mad Eye nodded, seeing the old man's logic. "And you're certain we'll find the kid in Black's home?"

Dumbledore nodded. "He disappeared just a day after Sirius Black escaped." Dumbledore didn't mention that when he had questioned Petunia Dursley about the incident, the woman had barely seemed to notice her nephew was gone.

Seeing no holes in Dumbledore's argument – he _was_ Dumbledore, after all – Mad Eye nodded again. "I'll gather up a team, then," he said, "and go rescue that poor child from the Blacks."

It was all Dumbledore asked for. With another grandfatherly smile he stepped out of the way, letting Mad Eye do his work. There was no need for him to go along; he would await their return here in the Ministry.

* * *

><p>One would assume Sirius' case would be an easy one; Pettigrew had confessed, so surely there was no doubt about it, right?<p>

Sighing, Remus leaned back in his chair. His arms were crossed over his chest as he carefully studied his surroundings. He'd forgotten how much paperwork would be involved in a case like this – the Ministry would want to prove that they hadn't done anything wrong, after all – and the sheer amount of pointless talking that took place between the Wizengamot members was enough to make him want to hit someone. It wouldn't help Sirius' case, but is sure as Merling would make Remus feel better.

"Relax," Lucius Malfoy told him through the corner of his mouth. The blonde was watching the procedures, too, but with an arrogant laziness defining his features. "You're too edgy."

Remus resisted muttering something unsavoury in return, instead opting to at least try and follow the blonde's advice. He didn't think it would work, mind you, but he figured it was as good as anything. Slowly working on relaxing one limb at a time, Remus hope the trial would end soon – he didn't know how much longer he could manage.

* * *

><p>Even though he wasn't as edgy and nervous as earlier, Harry had still refused to leave the living room, and Arcturus had had to admit to eating their lunch there, too. Quite uncivilized, in his opinion, but he supposed he shouldn't expect more from an escaped convict and a runaway child. Even if said runaway child had a lot more manners than many other boys his age.<p>

Shaking his head, Arcturus took another sip from his tea. He didn't pity the boy's Aunt and Uncle, filthy muggles who would have to face Cassiopeia sooner or later. In fact, he might even be inclined to go along, if only to see Cassie wreak some havoc. Taking another sip, the elderly man smiled at his thoughts. Watching Cassie destroy things had always been a hobby of his.

Harry, sitting curled up in his favourite chair, was currently reading Arcturus' copy of the Daily Prophet. He liked to think he was quite good at reading – a lot better than Dudley, at any rate – and he managed to get through most of the articles without too much problems. There was the occasional word he couldn't understand, but after gathering some well needed courage, he had managed to ask Arcturus about them. The elderly man had, thankfully, not been mad at him. In fact, he'd encouraged Harry not to be afraid to ask about other things he didn't understand.

While Harry felt he wasn't comfortable enough to ask the man just about anything – he still frightened him to some extent – the thought that someone would take the time to answer his questions made him smile.

Suddenly the fire-place flashed green, and Harry whipped his head around to stare with hopeful eyes at the figures that arrived into the living room. Sirius was back!

Arcturus wasn't as hopeful as Harry. Eyes narrowing, the eldely man immediately recognized something was wrong – the trial wasn't supposed to be over yet – and he quickly stood, drawing his wand at the three strangers that had appeared in the living room of Grimmauld Place 12.

"Who are you?" he demanded, voice deceptively polite as he pointed his wand at the intruders.

The leader of the little group stepped forward, and Arcturus only had to glance at the man's eyes to know who he was. "We're here on Ministry business, Mr. Black," Mad Eye Moody said curtly. His two goonies glared menacingly at Arcturus.

Artcurus was in no mood for that. "Since when does the Ministry sanctify breaking and entering, into a house of an ancient family, none the less?"

If that statement made Moody hesitate, he hid it well. "That's none of your business, Black," he said angrily. "Now step aside or I'll have you down for obstructing an official investigation."

The man glanced at Harry, and Arcturus realized what must be going on. Rising to his full height – an impressive thing – the elderly man glared at the aurors. "I'm afraid I cannot do that," he said. "Harry! Run!" he then ordered and fired off several stunners at the intruders.

The battle was on. Before the aurors had a chance to react, one of them was stunned, and the two others had ducked out of pure reflex, sending out hexes of their own. Harry, at first paralyzed, quickly slipped out of his chair.

"Quick!" Moody ordered. "Don't let the kid get away!"

One of his aurors made to follow the child, but was suddenly stopped as someone slammed a tea-tray into his face. Kreacher, tiny, wrinkly Kreacher, was standing on the backrest of the sofa, angrily wielding an ornate tray that had once belonged to Sirius' great grandmother Violetta.

Harry mumbled a quick thank you to the elf, and then used the distraction to get away. Once in the hallway he ran past the heavy draperies covering Walburga's picture. Acting on impulse, he pulled the draperies apart as he passed, revealing the former Black matriarch in all her glory. Not waiting around to see the effects, Harry bolted up the stairs, intent on finding somewhere safe to hide.

* * *

><p>Arcturus put up quite the fight, even managing to incapacitate one of the younger aurors, but eventually he was overpowered. Mad Eye forced the elderly man onto his knees, pointing his wand against his head.<p>

"Arcturus Black," he said, not without satisfaction, "you are placed under arrest for obstructing justice."

The elderly man scoffed. "Is this what the Ministry has been reduced to?" he questioned. "Ambushing people in their homes and then arresting them for defending themselves?"

Moody ignored him in favour of looking at one of his aurors, the one still conscious. "You," he ordered, "go find the child."

The auror, a young man with a serious look, nodded, and set out after Harry. Arcturus shook his head. "And now you've turned to kidnapping, too. What will your superiours think?"

"Quiet!" The auror spat, ignoring Arcturus question.

The youn auror who had followed Harry got quite the nasty surprise as he entered the hallway outside the living room. A painting, as large as the wall, depicting a stern looking woman dressed all in black, caught his eye, and before he knew it, it was screaming at him.

"HOW DARE YOU DEFACE THE HOUSE OF MY FATHERS, YOU LOWLIFE SON OF A MUGGLE?"

Reeling back in shock, the man had to blink a few times before fully grasping the situation. Peeking back into the living room, he gave Moody a hesitant look. "Uh, Moody sir?" he began. "There's a, uh, a painting. It's screaming."

The look Moody gave him could have frightened a dementor. "Then silence it, you idiot!"

Arcturus merely shook his head again. "No wonder the Ministry is falling apart," he muttered, "when they've employed people like you."

"Didn't I tell you to shut it, Black?"

The young auror looked as if he wanted to say something more, but took one glance at Moody's furious countenance and thought better of it. Ignoring the furious painting, he continued his search for the disappeared child.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Aaand we have us a chapter. Harry is loose in Grimmauld Place 12! Since I'm still on the school computers, spell-check has taken a vacation. Not that I added too many new terms this chapter. Ah, well.


	16. Hide and Seek

**Disclaimer**: I don't think this is necessary any more, is it?

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><p>Scurrying through the halls and rooms of Grimmauld Place 12, breath caught in his throat, Harry could feel his heart pound furiously against his chest. The image of the three intruders attacking was still fresh in his mind, and he ran almost on instinct, driven by a desperate urge to just get away. He could hear at least one person following him – the person's footsteps were heavy, loud – and Harry knew he would have to be very careful, lest he'd get caught.<p>

Ducking into one of the windowless spare bedrooms, which he knew had a little hidden pathway to the room next door, he made a dive for the bed, hoping it would be able to hide him. He also remembered the switch was right beside the end of the bed, as was the door. Once safely hidden underneath the bed, he began to search for the switch that would reveal the hidden door. Sirius had showed it to him, once, telling Harry about how he'd used it to get away from his parents when they were angry with him. Sirius had showed it during the day, however, in bright light, and even then the switch had been hard to find. In the darkness it was next to impossible to see, so Harry had to rely on his fingers to guide him.

He heard the door to the room open, and he could make out the outline of a pair of legs in the doorway. The man held his wand low. Harry, still feeling as if his heart was trying to jump out of his chest, clamped a hand down over his mouth to lessen the sounds of breathing, all while desperately searching for the switch with his other hand.

The man was approaching the bed now, and Harry could feel his panic rising. What if they caught him? Then, just as the man was about to kneel down to look under the bed, Harry found the switch, and before the door even had a chance to fully open, Harry slunk through the door, into the next room.

Calling it door was a bit of an overstatement; it was not much more than a small hole in the wall, too small for adults, but a perfect size for children Harry's size. He heard the man curse in the room he'd left behind, but he didn't stay to listen. Quickly darting through the room, he was soon in the hallway again, managing to get into another room before the man following had time to get out of the first bedroom.

Hopefully, he was safe – for now, at least.

* * *

><p>"What's taking that idiot so long?" Moody muttered under his breath. He was still holding Arcturus at wand point. In the hallway Walburga could still be heard, yelling curses and things that shouldn't be repeated in polite company.<p>

His other auror, the one Arcturus had managed to get down, was still unconscious. Moody didn't dare take his wand away from the elderly wizard, not even to enervate his own auror. The old geezer had already proved to be quite the nuisance in a duel, and Moody didn't want to give the man another time to try. He had enough on his hands, already. Thankfully, he knew it was for a good cause.

Arcturus, knowing that he may very well get into real trouble for this ordeal – Moody _was_ an auror, after all – silently prayed for Harry, hoping the child was resourceful not to get caught. He let his eyes sweep over the room, half out of boredom, half wanting to find something that could help him, when his eyes suddenly landed on the ornate tea-tray the house-elf had used. It was lying forgotten on the floor, but Arcturus had gotten an idea.

"Kreacher," he called softly, and before Moody could react the little elf popped back into existence. He was sporting the house-elf equivalent of a black eye, as one of the aurors had managed to send him flying into the wall.

"What can Kreacher do for you, Mister Geezer Sir?"

Ignoring the elf's name for him – Arcturus knew he could blame Sirius for that one – he gave the elf an imploring look. "Help Harry," he ordered.

"Oi!" Moody called, having noticed the elf. He sent a curse after it, but it had already disappeared, on its way to fulfil its masters orders.

* * *

><p>Harry had never been in the Black library before – he and Sirius hadn't gotten around to cleaning it, yet – but he found himself wishing he could go back there once all of this was over. Once Sirius was back.<p>

If he ever came back.

Hiding behind a huge, heavy-set wooden bookcase, he peeked over the covers over the books in an attempt to locate the man who was still following him. The light was dim, almost non-existent, but Harry was used to poor light. He had no problems adjusting his vision. He could make out the man creeping along the shelves, wand ready as he carefully examined every nook and cranny in his way.

Harry frowned. If it went on like this, it wouldn't be long before the man found him. He was going to have to move, and that soon, unless he wanted to get caught. He briefly thought of Arcturus, and felt tears gather at the corners of his eyes. What if something happened to the old man? He didn't want anyone getting hurt over _him_ of all things.

The man was closer now. In a few minutes he would be by the bookcase Harry was hiding behind. Moving as quietly as he could – those years hiding from Dudley and his gang seemed to pay off now – he made his way further into the library, knowing that he might be leading himself into a dead end. There was nothing he could do about that.

Suddenly, after Harry had managed to get quite a distance in between himself and the man, a soft pop announced Kreacher's appearance.

"I'm here to help Mister Harry Potter Boy," the elf said, expression grim.

"Oh," was all Harry managed to say. Then he smiled softly. "Thank you, Kreacher."

The elf muttered something unsavoury under his breath, but Harry paid it no heed. Kreacher usually did that, after all.

"Where is the bad wizard, Mister Harry Potter Boy?"

"Just Harry," the child corrected him with a whisper. "And he's there, somewhere." He made a gesture with his arm towards where he had last seen the man. "Kreacher?"

"Yes, Mister Harry Potter Boy?"

Harry sighed. "Really, you can call me Harry," he told the elf, even though he suspected it wouldn't do him any good. "Is there another way out of here?"

The elf shook his head. "Master Orion liked his books to be safe." The elf gave him a speculative look. "Does Mister Harry need to get out of here?"

Nodding, Harry glanced around the corner of the bookcase. He thought he'd heard something. When nothing happened, he turned back to the elf. "Yeah," he said. "If I stay here h-he'll catch me."

It turned out Harry _had_ heard something. Before he had time to react, two hands grasped his arms, pulling him up.

"Gotcha," the auror said. He didn't want to hurt the boy, but he knew he had to get him back to Moody.

Harry didn't agree with that idea. Flailing madly with his arms and legs, he screamed as loud as he could, trying desperately to get away. He even tried to bite the man's hand, but he couldn't quite reach properly. He did, however, manage to kick back – purely out of accident – hitting certain soft spots on the auror.

The man let out a whimper, and Harry managed to wriggle himself free. He was running before he was on the ground, and he grabbed Kreacher's hand, dragging the elf with him before the auror could get his bearings.

Harry was fast – running from Dudley proved healthy, yet again – but he was short for his age, and had short legs. The auror didn't suffer from that problem, and he was trained for things like this. Wherever Harry ran, the auror was quick on his heels, and sometimes Harry even thought he could feel the man's hands brushing against his back.

"K-kreacher," he wheezed out as he rounded a corner, "_help_."

It was all the elf needed. With a nasty look in the auror's direction, the elf snapped his fingers. Just when the auror thought he might finally catch the boy, both child and house-elf disappeared into thin air.

* * *

><p>Down in the living room, Moody was beginning to get worried. After the scream they'd heard, it had been deafeningly silent. Even the portrait in the hallway was quiet. At some point he thought he could hear footsteps, but it was hard to tell. He tried using his eye, but the house walls were full of enought privacy wards and secrecy charms that he simply couldn't get through them.<p>

Arcturus was worried, too, but perhaps not for the same reasons. That scream had come from Harry, he knew, and he could only hope the child was okay.

The fire-place suddenly flared to life, and both men turned their heads to see none other than Cassiopeia step through in all her glory. Her dark eyes narrowed as she laid eyes on Moody, and before they could blink she had her wand in her hand and had sent away a silent hex.

Moody managed to get up a protego in time, but the force of the elderly woman's hex was enough to send him back a few steps.

"What's the meaning of this!" She demanded angrily, eyes flaring as she sent away another hex. "Who are you!"

Protecting himself from another spell sent his way, Moody managed to get a hex of his own out, sending it towards the woman. She deflected it easily.

"I'm an auror, Ma'am," the auror tried to explain, dodging another hex and something that looked a little too dark to be just a simple hex. "Here on official business."

Cassiopeia wasn't that easily deterred. "A dog from the Ministry!" Her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Or are you a dog of Dumbledore's?"

Her next spell hit Moody square in the chest, and the man was sent flying backwards. "Get up, Artie," she said to her cousin with a roll of her eyes. "You look ridiculous, kneeling like that."

Arcturus gave her a dirty look, but refrained to comment. He did not want to be the next one to be hexed. Instead, he went over to the downed auror, wand raised.

In that moment the auror who had went after Harry stepped into the room. "He slipped away from me, Sir," he apologized before he could fully realize the situation. "The damn house-elf apparated away with him." Only then did he notice that Moody was now on the ground, and that Arcturus had gotten reinforcement. "Oh," he said, and then bolted for the door.

Before he could get far Cassiopeia sent a hex after him, and vines appeared out of nowhere and snared the man's legs together. Unable to stop himself, the man toppled over, landing on his face.

"You won't get away with this," Moody promised – or perhaps warned – from his spot on the floor. "We'll save the child, no matter what."

Arcturus gave the man a surprised look, eyebrows raised. "Save him?" he asked. "From what?"

Moody looked practically livid. "From scum like you! He should be back home with his relatives, not here."

Arcturus almost laughed, finding the situation quite comical. "You honestly think he'd be better of with those _muggles_?"

The auror's look was enough answer. For a second Arcturus considered telling the man just what Harry's relatives had done to him, but then he decided against it. It would be much more fun to let him find out on his own. Arcturus almost wished he could be in the same room as the man as he realized what he'd been fighting for; the look on the auror's face should be priceless.

* * *

><p>It was done. The trial was over, and Sirius was now a free man. He released a shaky breath he hadn't known he was holding, and it was as if all air suddenly had left his body. His shoulders slouched, his limbs relaxed, and if he hadn't already been sitting down he was sure he would've fallen over.<p>

He could hear his companions cheering, congratulating, and someone slapped him on the back. In the chair beside him Pettigrew struggled against his restraints, thrashing wildly as high-pitched whimpers escaped his lips. The guards stunned him, the chair released him, and then they were dragging him away. Sirius met the man's frantic, panicked eyes a last time, and then, only then, did the whole situation fully sink in.

"I'm free," he mumbled, voice hoarse. He sought out Moony, who was amongst the ones cheering. Standing, he pulled the man into a rough hug. "I'm free!"

"You're free!" Moony agreed, giving his friend a celebratory pat on the back.

Sirius felt himself almost topple over, and he was glad his friend was there to catch him before he tumbled to the floor. He didn't look it, but Moony packed some strength in his sinewy limbs.

His head was spinning. People were talking, laughing, congratulating, making noise, but Sirius couldn't make out what they were saying through the haze. It was as if someone had placed a pillow over his ears, dimming out the noise. He swallowed, and realized his throat was dry. A smile was beginning to form on his lips.

"I'm free."

* * *

><p>Lucius, having given his fair share of congratulations and pats on the back, quietly slipped away, opting to leave before someone decided to be Gryffindor-ish and throw a party or something. He had done his job, and all he wanted to do now was to return home to his wife and son. Narcissa was going to be delighted.<p>

He began to walk to his office, his trip taking him through the Ministry. On his way he had to pass through the Department of Magical Law – nothing out of the ordinary – but the person casually sitting in one of the common lounging areas was not a part of the original scenery.

Worry suddenly gnawing at his insides, Lucius gave Dumbledore a cold, superiour look, which the man responded to by smiling, that damn twinkle in his eyes. Lucius didn't stay for a chat, and as soon as he was out of sight he began to speed up. Dumbledore's appearance could only mean one thing; trouble.

* * *

><p>When Narcissa flooed to Grimmauld Place 12, the scene in the living room was not one she had expected. Cassiopeia and Arcturus, both wielding wands, had two people Narcissa immediately recognized as aurors down on the floor.<p>

The blonde woman groaned. This was going to be a mess, she was sure of it. "Aunt Cassiopeia, cousin Arcturus," she greeted them, not without reproach in her voice.

Cassiopeia grinned at her. "Ah, 'Cissa," she said warmly. "What brings you here?"

"Well," Narcissa started, "I did come here to check on Harry, but now it seems I am going to have to clean up your mess." She sent the woman a glare, and then turned to Arcturus. "Cousin Arcturus, please step back from the auror."

Arcturus gave her an almost indignant look. "And let the bastard continue to destroy our family home? My dear child, I think not. Beside, he added, they are only up to no good."

Narcissa's eyes narrowed, and she resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Harry?" she guessed, and the old man nodded. "Where is he?"

"Hopefully the kid has smarts enough to stay away from people like you!" Moody piped up from the ground, and Narcissa turned her icy eyes onto the auror, who, for a split second, regretted drawing attention to himself.

"I do hope you're aware that you have just ruined weeks of work on getting that child to trust adults again," she told him coolly, glaring down her nose at him. "I'll remember to send his St. Mungo's bills to you."

Without further ado the now furious blonde woman stepped over the downed auror and out into the hallway. Passing Walburga's portrait, she glanced at the black-clad woman. "Aunt Walburga?" she called, getting the painting's attention. "Do you know where Harry is hiding?"

The woman gave her a piercing look, and for a moment Narcissa felt as if she was a little girl again. "Not exactly," the painting admitted. "But do ask Kreacher." Without waiting for a response, the curtains fell down over the painting, obscuring it from view.

Narcissa blinked and decided that the old woman must be just as mad as a painting as she had been when she was alive. Still, it didn't hurt to try. "Kreacher!"

The little elf appeared almost reluctantly, his large eyes full of suspicion. "What can I do for Missus Narcissa?"

She narrowed her eyes at the elf. "Do you know where Harry is?"

Shifting his feet, the elf looked away. "... Yes," he answered after a moment of hesitation.

Narcissa nodded. "Bring him here."

The elf gave her a dark look, but still popped out of view, presumably to fetch Harry from wherever he was hidden. When the elf appeared again he was still alone.

"Mister Harry does not want to come, Missus Narcissa," the elf explained, and Narcissa thought she could hear a faint tone of satisfaction in the elf's voice.

Sighing, Narcissa had to admit to herself that she hadn't expected anything else. "Can you take me to him?"

Glaring suspiciously at her, then elf suddenly popped out of view, and Narcissa waited several moments. She was almost beginning to think the elf had left for real when he suddenly popped back into view, still giving her highly suspicious looks.

"Mister Harry is okay with Missus Narcissa coming to him," he told her, and she suspected he got no little amount of pleasure making it out that she had no status in this house. He had always been a nasty little elf.

"Lead the way," she said curtly, and began to follow the elf as he walked down the hall instead of just apparating. For that Narcissa was glad – she might be willing to do a lot for a child, but she would not be caught dead letting a house-elf apparate her.

The elf led her down into the kitchen, into a little alcove hidden from view. There was a crude make-shift bed in a corner, and the walls were lined with cupboards. Narcissa suspected it was some sort of storage, as well as Kreacher's room, so to speak. Stopping in the middle of the room, the elf silently pointed to one of the cupboards, and Narcissa felt her heart clench. The poor child must be hiding inside.

She knelt down and then softly knocked on the door. "Harry?" she asked softly. "Are you there?"

A non-committal sound could be heard from the depths of the cupboard.

"Can I open the door?"

Another sound came, and Narcissa assumed it was affirmative. Slowly, using no sudden movements, she opened the door to the cupboard. She could see it hadn't been used properly in years – the floor was coated with a thick layer of dust. There was a long line where the dust had been swept away, as well as hand prints from small hands. Further inside, where the light couldn't quite reach, she could make out the faint outlines of Harry. The boy was curled up into a ball, legs pressed close to his chest, and he was staring at her with wide eyes.

Narcissa held out her arms. "Come, Harry," she said gently. "Everything is all right now."

The child hesitated at first, suspicion clear in his posture. Then, slowly, ever so slowly, he began to glide over to her. As soon as he was within arms reach the woman pulled him into a tight embrace. As if some sort of dam had broken inside the child's mind, he desperately clung to the woman, suddenly sobbing.

"There, there," the woman said soothingly, gently rocking him back and forth. "It's quite all right, love."

"I-I tho-thought they w-were going to t-take me _b-back_," he managed to get out through sobs.

Narcissa, understanding far too well what the boy meant, made a mental note to make sure Lucius and his team of lawyers tore those aurors to shreds. "No one's going to take you anywhere, Harry," she assured the child, still rocking back and forth. "You're going to stay here with Sirius and Remus." Even if she would have to walk over a few bodies to make it happen.

"A-and you, r-right?"

The woman smiled and kissed his tousled hair. "I'll come and visit every day," she promised him. "I'll even bring my son, Draco, so the two of you can become friends."

The child sobbed some more, but remained quiet. Narcissa waited for him to calm down again before standing up. It took a bit of manoeuvring, but Narcissa had no intentions of letting the child down. "Let us go," she said, "and find Sirius."

They left the kitchen, Harry starfished around Narcissa. The woman had a stubbornly determined look on her face, and it was going to take a lot more than a few aurors to stop her now.

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><p><strong>AN**: And with this chapter we crossed the 50k words line. Wow. Spell-check hasn't much new to add - nothing, in fact - but I think we'll survive. Hopefully. Also, I would like to thank everyone who has added this story to their favourites/story alerts and/or reviewed - it means a lot to me, and I get ridiculously giddy every time I get an email telling me about it. I love you guys, really.


	17. Arrested

**Disclaimer**: Does anyone even read this?

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><p>When Narcissa came back to the living room, the scene had changed. Cassiopeia and Arcturus were sitting on the couch, almost bashful expressions on their face, and Moody was up on his legs again. The young auror who had chased after Harry was helping his friend back to consciousness.<p>

As the woman entered the room, child starfished on her hip, all heads turned, and Moody gave her a dark look. "Hand over the boy," he ordered.

Harry clung tighter to the blonde woman, fear evident on his face. Narcissa gave the auror a wiltering look. "Lay a hand on him and I swear there will be nothing between you and Azkaban," she promised him venomously. "He has seen enough of this madness." Without further ado she shouldered past the auror, making her way towards the fire-place.

Moody looked as if he wanted to stop her – and he did – but he also knew she could very well make reality of her threat. Her slimy bastard of a husband had too many connections, to many who were willing to do his dirty business, and Moody knew he would be in no position to help the child if he was suspended. Still, his fingers itched, begging to grasp his wand.

Narcissa grabbed a handful of floo-powder, threw it into the fire and loudly announced her destination. She and the child disappeared in a flash of green.

Getting a decidedly uncomfortable feeling in his stomach, Moody swallowed. It seemed trouble might come sooner than he had anticipated; the woman had flooed to the Ministry.

Still sitting on the couch, Cassiopeia chuckled. "There seems to be some Black left in her, after all."

Arcturus just gave her a disbelieving look.

* * *

><p>As soon as he opened the door to his office, Lucius noticed the fire-place flared up, and Narcissa stepped out, Harry firmly starfished across her side. She didn't look like she was going to let him down any time soon.<p>

"What happened?" he asked her quietly, brows furrowed in concern.

Narcissa was livid. "That mangy old _bastard_ sent aurors after him," she said, voice just a few notes higher than usual.

Lucius frown turned into a look of surprise. "Dumbledore?" he guessed, earning himself an affirmative nod from his wife. "How many?"

"Three," she told him. She was pacing back and forth, her eyes ablaze. "The filthy dogs had the _nerve_ to break into Grimmauld Place."

Now frowning again, Lucius leaned against his desk. This was a serious offence, indeed, and if it came out, which Lucius believed it would, that the aurors hadn't acted on the Minister's order but Dumbledore's, well, they might just have a scandal on their hands. He couldn't help but smile a little. This was a prime opportunity to finally have that twinkly old coot punished.

Beginning to calm down, Narcissa pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. "I think Arcturus and Cassiopeia have been arrested," she admitted with a sigh. "I don't think they'll be in too much trouble, though."

Lucius gave her a suspicious look. "What did they do?"

Narcissa actually smiled. "When I first got there one auror was unconscious, and the other two were on the ground."

He couldn't help it – he had to roll his eyes. Trust the Black seniors to do such a stupid thing. "Please tell me they did it in defence?"

His wife shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. "I only arrived towards the end of it."

Now it was Lucius turn to pinch the bridge of his nose, letting out an exasperated sigh. This was why he didn't like the elderly. Still, he supposed they were family. "I'll go and check on them," he promised her in an resignated tone.

Narcissa smiled and leaned in to give him a small peck on the mouth. "Now," she said, "how's it going for Sirius?"

* * *

><p>Free. He was free. He was breathing free air, he was walking on free ground. No longer did Azkaban hold him down, trapping him against her stones. No longer did he have to hide like a stray dog begging for scraps. He was free.<p>

Everyone around him were talking, laughing, congratulating him, but he couldn't hear them. He could feel an arm around his shoulders – it smelled like Remus – steering him away from the crowd, away from the noise. Not that it mattered; the crowd and noise seemed to follow them, engulfing them.

"Sirius!"

He knew that voice. His hazed mind tried to come up with the name the voice belonged to. Narcissa. It was Narcissa's voice. He turned around, trying to locate her, trying to find her blonde head in the sea of people.

Someone moved to the right, someone stepped aside, and suddenly she was in his view, visible through the make-shift tunnel of people. She was smiling, but there was a faint line of worry creasing her brows.

Sirius only had eyes on the child on her hip. Before he knew what he was doing, he was holding out his arms, calling, beckoning for the boy to come.

Harry twisted free of Narcissa's grasp – or perhaps she let him go – and moments later he crashed into Sirius, clinging to the man as his body shook with his sobs. Sirius embraced the child, holding him as close as possible, and began stroking his hair. Something was wrong. A frown formed on his features. Harry wasn't supposed to be this - this _afraid_.

He turned to look up at Narcissa. "What happened?" he demanded.

The woman's smile vanished. "We'd better get away from here," she said, giving the crowd a displeased look. "This is not the right place."

Nodding, Sirius stood up, child still in his arms. He nodded towards Remus and Pollux, and then the four of them silently followed the blonde woman back to her husbands office.

"What happened?" Sirius repeated as soon as the door had closed behind them.

Narcissa flinched. "Dumbledore sent aurors to Grimmauld Place."

Sirius grip on Harry tightened. "He did _what_!"

The woman sighed. "I do not know all the details," she admitted, giving him an apologetic look. "When I got there Harry was hiding in a cupboard in Kreacher's alcove."

It was fairly certain that the only reason Sirius wasn't on his way to murder Dumbledore right then and there was Harry, who was still clinging to his godfather, silent sobs rocking his tiny body.

Pollux laid his hand on the man's shoulder, gently guiding him towards the couch in the room. When he was sure his grandson was sitting down – and staying there – he turned to Narcissa.

"What about Arcturus?" He almost dreaded the answer.

To his surprise, Narcissa smiled. "I think he and Cassiopeia might be arrested by now."

Pollux rolled his eyes. "Let me guess, they fought?"

"You could say that, yeah." Narcissa still had the image of the two elders standing in the living room, wands raised and aurors downed. That must've been quite the blow to the aurors confidence.

Sirius, still sitting in the couch and still holding on to Harry as if his life depended on it, turned to Lucius, who had been watching the group from behind his desk. "They can't get away with this," he stated matter-of-factly.

Lucius nodded. "I know," he said, no little amount of glee in his voice. "I've already begun."

That was all Sirius needed to know. He slumped back into the couch, letting Harry lie across his chest. He gently, almost absentmindedly threaded his fingers through the child's messy hair.

"I am taking over the guardianship of Harry," he said, not looking at anyone special. "I don't care about those _muggles_; he was never supposed to go there."

Lucius nodded again. "Now that you have been freed, you are the magical guardian of him, as it is stated in their will. Not even Dumbledore can mess with that now."

Suddenly the doors to the office smashed open, and a handful of armored aurors piled into the room. One of them – the leader – pointed his wand at Narcissa. "Narcissa Malfoy, you are hereby arrested for obstructing justice."

The blonde woman gave him a disbelieving look. "I'm _what_!"

* * *

><p>Arcturus and Cassiopeia Black, currently occupying one of the Ministry holding cells, hadn't expected on Narcissa being led there, too. The woman was led to a cell opposite to theirs, a glare that would've frightened Voldemort on her features.<p>

"Why on earth are _you_ here?" Cassiopeia asked once the aurors had left, eyebrows raised in surprise.

Narcissa huffed. "For obstructing justice."

He couldn't help it – Arcturus began to laugh. "This is a fine mess we've gotten ourselves into, isn't it?" he said once he'd calmed down – and once Cassiopeia had glared daggers at him. "Three upstanding citizens, treated like common criminals."

"There's nothing upstanding about you, Artie," Cassie snorted.

Arcturus ignored her. "I believe your husband is on the case?" he asked Narcissa, who was pacing back and forth in her cell.

"Of course," the woman confirmed with a toss of her hair. "Dumbledore won't get away with this."

Smiling a very slytherin smile, Arcturus agreed. "Naturally. And just imagine the press once it's realized we've been arrested for helping the boy-who-lived."

At first Narcissa opened her mouth to protest – Harry was more than just that silly name they'd given him – but then she smiled as realization hit her. "The Prophet will have a field-day," she mumbled, the gears turning in her head. "Finding out that their beloved Dumbledore acted out of line like that... Yes, it's going to be perfect."

Arcturus kept smiling as he leaned back against the wall. There was nothing more for him to say.

* * *

><p>Lucius found that he had a hard time concentrating on his surroundings. They were discussing how to approach this case, but he found that he simply couldn't focus on what was being said.<p>

"Lucius, sit down for crying out loud," Sirius said with a grimace. He still had Harry plastered all over him. "'Cissa's going to be just fine where she is."

He wanted to protest, but knew it would be pointless. They were right, of course, and he slowly sat back down. The thought that he'd simply go and break his wife out still echoed through his mind.

"Right," Sirius continued once he saw the man sit down. "Does anyone know _why_ she was arrested?"

"For obstructing justice."

"Thank you, Moony, for that piece of information. It was just what we needed." He shot his friend a glare. "Now, anyone got any _other_, _real_ reasons?"

Lucius glanced at Remus. "Is he always this snarky?"

Smiling, the graying man nodded. "Especially when he's nervous."

"Oi, oi, oi," Sirius called the attention back to himself. "This is not mock-Sirius-time. This is find-out-why-'Cissa-got-arrested-time."

"For helping me," a tiny voice piped up, barely audible, and it took a few moments for the men to realize where the voice had come from.

Harry glanced up from Sirius chest, seeking out Lucius gaze. His tiny little heart was beating furiously against his chest, and he was so close to shivering. Surely the man would hate him for it, but he knew he had to say it. "She was arrested for helping me."

Sirius grasped the child's shoulders and held him up so they were on eye-level. "Harry, _none_ of this is your fault," he told the boy. "Narcissa made her own choices."

The child remained unconvinced.

In Lucius mind the gears were turning as he stared at the child. But of course. Why hadn't he thought of that before? "Gentlemen," he said, giving Harry a last, indecipherable look, "I have an idea."

* * *

><p>"I'm sorry, Albus," Moody said to Dumbledore. They were both standing in the small lounge by the aurors' office. "I couldn't get to the boy before the Malfoy woman."<p>

Smiling grandfatherly, Dumbledore shook his head. "It's quite all right, Alastor," he assured the man. And it was all right, really. Sure, it meant he would have to change his plans a bit, but it didn't change too much. Harry would be back with his relatives before evening came.

"The boys arrested her," Moody continued, "but I don't think she'll stay for long. That slime of a husband she has is going to get her out before we can blink."

Dumbledore nodded. Lucius presence was to be expected; he did have an awful lot of contacts in the Ministry, after all. "Don't worry, Alastor," he told his old friend. "Things are going to work out just fine. Care for a lemon drop?"

* * *

><p>When the door to her office opened and Lucius Malfoy stepped in, the Minister paled visibly. The look on the man's face spoke business, unfinished business, and she found she could only pity whoever had gotten in his way.<p>

"Good evening, Minister Bagnold," he said, the poster-boy of politeness.

The formality only made the Minister even more nervous. "Good Evening, Mr. Malfoy. What can I do for you?" She almost dreaded the answer.

The man sat down without being invited. "It would seem the aurors no longer follow your orders, Minister," he told her casually. "Unless it was you who ordered them to invade the home of a respectable old family and then arrest my wife."

It was at that moment the Minister realized that she would have been better of not leaving her bed that morning. "What has happened?" she asked him, voice grave. She had a feeling this would give her a headache.

* * *

><p>After Lucius had left, the motley group had decided to stay in the blonde's office; they couldn't very well go back to Grimmauld Place just yet, and there was nothing else to do. Pollux sighed after a while, shaking his head.<p>

"I think I'd better go check on Arcturus and Cassie," he told Remus and Sirius. "I don't think they're in too much trouble, but I'd rather know for sure."

Sirius nodded in understanding, and the old man left. Now there were only three of them. Sirius was still sitting on the couch with Harry sprawled out over his lap, Remus was leaning against Lucius' desk.

"When we get home I'm going to ward that place enough to stop the entire Ministry from even realizing it's there."

The hint of a smile played on Remus' lips. "Like your father did?"

Sirius scoffed. "I never thought I'd say it, but it seems the paranoid old bastard was right about that, at least."

They shared a chuckle. If anyone had told Sirius just a few weeks ago that he'd begin to agree with his parents, he would've hexed them into the next oblivion and then laugh at their misery.

"I hope Narcissa'll be all right," Remus suddenly said.

Sirius gave him a shrewd look. "Don't worry, Moony," he assured the man. "Us Blacks are hard to kill."

"She's a Malfoy now, or have you forgotten that?"

Shrugging, Sirius waved a dismissing hand in his friend's direction. "Details," he said lightly.

Remus just shook his head, a smile playing on his lips. "So, what happens now?"

Sirius shrugged again. "I have no idea," he admitted. "We'll go home, ward the pants off the old house and then plot Dumbledore's demise. You know, the usual."

A faint line creased Remus' brows into a frown. "Sirius, I don't think that he-"

"Don't give me that crap, Moony," Sirius interrupted. "He knew exactly what he was doing when he placed Prongslet with Lily's sister." He gave his friend a side-long look. "Besides, I know for a fact that Lils used to cry on your shoulder about her sister – shouldn't _you_ of all people realize how awful she and that husband of hers are?"

Remus gave him an annoyed look. "Just because you've had an argument it doesn't mean you stop being family."

This caused Sirius to snort. "Trust me, Remus," he said darkly, "I know exactly how easy it is to stop being family with someone."

Remus sighed. He had no response to that – what could he say, anyway? Drawing a tired hand through his hair, he glanced at Sirius. "Can't you at least give him the benefit of the doubt?" he begged.

Sirius gave him a flat look. "I might listen to what he has to say," he said, "but nothing more. If he tries to take Harry one more time I don't care if he's Merlin himself; he's going down."

Sighing again, Remus realized that was as much as he'd get from his friend, so he let the subject drop. There was no need for them to get into an unnecessary argument, not now. They had far too much on their plates to have time for a silly argument.

At that moment the door to the office opened, and Lucius walked in, a smug grin on his face.

"You look awfully pleased with yourself," Sirius commented. "Did a muggle drop dead, or what?"

Lucius thought himself too dignified to respond to that. "I just had a nice little chat with the Minister," he told them.

"We know," Sirius interrupted. "That was the whole point of you leaving, wasn't it?"

The blonde gave him an annoyed look. "If Mister Black would kindly shut his mouth so that I can continue..?"

Sirius rolled his eyes, but remained quiet.

After giving the man a last, dirty look, Lucius continued. "It is as we suspected – the aurors did not act upon the Ministers orders. In fact, it seemed impossible to find out just on whose orders they _did_ act."

"We know that already. It was Dumbledore."

Lucius looked ready to throttle someone. "_As I was saying_, the only reason we could find out who it was was because one of the younger aurors couldn't lie to the Minister herself." The fact that Lucius thought said auror was a stupid little idiot, despite helping them out and all, was written clear over his features.

"What about Narcissa, Cassiopeia and Arcturus?" Remus asked, diverting the attention to himself to stave of a shouting match.

This time Lucius grimaced. "As it turns out the aurors had the right to arrest them despite acting out of order – which is complete nonsense, if you ask me – and that it's binding. I already have my lawyers working on it, of course."

"Of course," Sirius agreed drily. A chuckle escaped his lips. "Oh, man, 'Cissa's going to be so _pissed_ when she gets out."

Lucius secretely agreed – he only hoped it wouldn't be _him_ she directed her anger at.

* * *

><p>"I can't believe they're going to keep us over night," Narcissa fumed. She was pacing back and forth again – or maybe she'd never stopped – eyes ablaze. Someone was going to suffer for this, she assured herself.<p>

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes at the irate blonde. "Calm down, girl," she said. She was sitting as comfortably as she could on the provided bed.

"Calm down? _Calm down_! Cassie, we're under _arrest_."

Arcturus snorted from his corner. "And that's something Cassie would know quite a lot about," he said, giving his cousin a wry look. "Don't you, Cassie dear?"

The elderly woman let out a huff. "Oh shush, you old coot."

Sighing, Narcissa slumped down on the bed provided for her. They'd managed to get themselves into quite the mess, it seemed. The plates with her dinner were still largely untouched, and Narcissa knew they would disappear soon. As would the light. She felt a shiver of cold – or perhaps something else – slither up her spine.

Cassiopeia gave her great-niece a sympathetic look. "It's not as bad as it seems," she assured the woman. "Your husband will have you out in no time."

A faint smile tugged at Narcissa's lips. "Indeed he will. And once he does, Dumbledore will _pay_."

"That's my girl."

Narcissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "What happened at Grimmauld Place before I arrived, anyway?" she asked her great-aunt.

The eldrely woman shrugged. "I'm not entirely sure," she admitted. "I didn't arrive until Arcturus was facing down with that Moody character."

Arcturus let out another snort. "'Facing down' is a bit of an overstatement, don't you think, dear?" he asked sardonically. "He had me down at wand-point before you arrived."

Cassiopeia waved his correction away with her hand. "After you'd managed to incapacitate one of his aurors, that is."

"He was only a child," Arcturus protested. "Barely out of training, methinks."

Narcissa rolled her eyes. "Could you please stop basking in your own greatness for a second?" she asked, giving Arcturus a pointed look. The man responded with a very slytherin smile. "What happened before that?"

The man shrugged. "Me and young Harry were in the living room, awaiting Sirius return, and then aurors arrived. There's not much else to tell."

"But why did Harry end up in a cupboard with Kreacher?"

Smiling at the memory of the elf brandishing an invaluable tea-tray to fend of attackers, Arcturus then shrugged at the blonde woman. "I told him to run," he told her, "and then I told Kreacher to help him."

"And he did, just like that?"

"Where have you been the last weeks, girl?" Cassiopeia cut in. "That wretched little thing adores the boy."

"Don't we all?" Arcturus mumbled acerbically.

Cassiopeia shot him a dirty look. "I'm sure the elf would do _anything_ to help his precious Mister Harry Potter Boy."

A small smile tugged at Narcissa's lips. She'd seen how devoted the elf had become to the child. "Yes, he probably would," she agreed absentmindedly. An idea formed in her head. "Kreacher!"

The elf appeared with a pop, suspiciously eyeing his surroundings. "Missus Narcissa Malfoy called?"

She smiled down at the elf. "Indeed I did. How is the situation at Grimmauld Place?"

Kreacher wrung his wrinkly little hands. "Kreacher has managed to clean up most of the mess the bad wizards left," he assured the woman, "and has made sure no one else can come in."

Narcissa paused, giving the elf a strange look. Elves could do that? She was going to have to check it out later. "Splendid," she told the elf. "Thank you." Ignoring how the elf almost blushed, she continued. "Now, I want you to go and take care of Sirius and Harry," she told him. "And Remus, too," she then added as an afterthought. "Make sure they eat properly, especially Harry."

The elf gave her a dead-pan look, and Narcissa got the feeling he was questioning her intelligence. "Is there anything else Missus Malfoy needs?"

"No, that's it for now," she managed to get out, still staring strangely at the elf.

Kreacher gave her another condencending look – quite a good one, too, considering he was just a house-elf – and popped out of existance.

Narcissa stared at where the elf had been, and then glanced at her great-aunt. "That has to be the strangest elf I've ever seen."

Cassiopeia just laughed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: And here's chapter 17. The longest chapter yet. Whoopwhoop. I always get so nervous when word doesn't show me any red squiggly lines. It keeps making me think something's wrong, which is silly, since their absence should prove that, in fact, nothing's wrong. Silly word. Spell-check hasn't anything new to add. I think I must introduce some new characters with names spell-check doesn't recognize, just for fun.


	18. Healer

**Disclaimer**: It's not mine, folks.

* * *

><p>Remus frowned, and it was clear he was sceptical to the whole idea. "Do you really think involving The Daily Prophet is the right thing to do?" he questioned.<p>

The glance Lucius shot in his direction was practically condescending. "As I was saying," he continued, "once the Prophet hears our tale, they'll be willing to kill for the rights to publish it."

They were still in Lucius office, even though it was late. Harry laid curled up on the couch, fast asleep, using Pollux' jacket as a blanket. He had his head in Sirius' lap. Remus was standing, leaning against the wall, his brows furrowed into a frown, and Pollux had opted for a chair in front of Lucius desk, where beforementioned blonde was currently sitting.

Pollux nodded at Lucius' words. "Once it is known what they tried to do there will be an public outcry for justice," he agreed, glancing around at his companions. "Of course, not everyone is going to be convinced, but it will be enough to seriously harm his image."

They were talking about Dumbledore, of course, even though none of them were eager to say his name.

"I just don't see why we can't just send him to Azkaban and be over with it," Sirius admitted, sounding worn and tired. He was gently stroking Harry's hair, an almost absent-minded gesture.

Pollux frowned at him. "At this time that would be impossible," he told them. "The old bastard has too many friends in the Ministry, and too many gullible fans willing to believe his every word, no matter what evidence of the contrary is laid before them."

Only Remus noticed the subtle glance sent his way at those words, and he resisted the urge to frown and glare darkly at the old man.

Unaware of the silent conversation taking place between Remus and Pollux, Lucius shook his head. "That man has too much power."

Before anyone could comment, there came a knock on the door. Blinking, Lucius mumbled: "That was fast," under his breath before calling out, "Come inside!"

The door opened and a smartly, if a bit outlandishly, dressed woman with a blonde perm and vicious looking red nails stepped in. She had a bag hanging of her arm, and she gave the present men calculating looks, a small smile playing on her lips. "Good evening, Mr. Malfoy," she greeted as the door closed behind her. "I'm Rita Skeeter, from the Prophet. I was told you had a story to share."

* * *

><p>The result of their scheming was as predicted; the next morning the Prophet's office and the Ministry were flooded with angry notes and messages, and even a handful of howlers, all demanding justice in one way or another. The Minister herself had to go down to the aurors in turn to make sure they finished all the paperwork necessary to release the two Blacks and Mrs. Malfoy from their holding cells.<p>

Needless to say, Minister Bagnold was quite irate – getting three howlers before breakfast tended to do that to people. She could only be grateful that the article had specifically targeted Dumbledore as incompetent, and not her. She shuddered at the thought of how many howlers she would've gotten had she been the one painted out as the villain.

Of course, she knew this was all some part of Lucius Malfoy's machinations, and for once she couldn't even fault him; his wife _and_ her elderly relatives had been arrested on silly charges, all because they refused give up a child whom they cared for.

The Minister could feel another headache coming on. The fact that the child in question was none other than Harry Potter seemed like the icing on the cake, and she shuddered as she realized that now that knowledge of the child's location was out, things were really going to start to get crazy.

* * *

><p>"Father, when will mum get home?"<p>

Lucius glanced down at his son, who had abandoned his toast in favour of trying to intimidate his father into answering. He wasn't too good at it; he was too young, and the marmalade stain on his cheek definitely ruined the picture somewhat.

The Malfoy patriarch smiled down at his son. "Later today, Draco," he assured the child, sounding as if he didn't have a care in the world. Of course, beneath the exterior he was just as eager and impatient – if not more – as his son to see his wife get safely home again. Seven years of safety had gotten him used to waking up next to her, and quite frankly he did not like it when she was gone.

The youngest Malfoy pouted petulantly. "But why can't she come home _now_?" he demanded.

Lucius absentmindedly wiped the marmalade of his son's cheek. Normally Narcissa would have done it, but she was not home. Not yet, at least. "Because the incompetent fools at the Ministry have to do their jobs first."

The child still pouted, but he seemed to accept his father's explanation – as always – and went back to his toast. Within moments he had another marmalade stain, this time on his forehead, and Lucius couldn't help but wonder just how the child managed.

* * *

><p>He wasn't used to having this many people over at breakfast, Pollux realized as he silently passed the butter to an all too chipper Harry. Calling the boy chipper might have been a tad bit unfair, but Pollux was certain there must be some kind of law against being so – so <em>awake<em> this early in the morning. His blasted grand-son was no better, sitting leaned back in his chair as he read the Prophet, occasionally chuckling at something he read. Even their damned house-elf was unnaturally cheerful, catering to their every whim with far too much glee.

Pollux shook his head in wonder. He knew he'd never been much of a morning person, but this was getting ridiculous. He was going to have to teach the boys the finer arts of sleeping.

"I wonder if N-Narcissa is okay," Harry suddenly mumbled into his toast.

Sirius gave him a look over the edge of the newspaper. "Don't worry, Prongslet," he assured the child. "'Cissa'll be just fine. She's a Black."

Pollux resisted the urge to scoff. Sirius wasn't exactly the one known to proudly tell about the virtues of his family, and this latest statement smelled faintly of hypocrisy.

"I might not like 'em," the ex-convict admitted, "but they're damn good at surviving. Well, most of them, at any rate."

A small smile tugged at Pollux' lips. That did sound a lot more like the grand-son who'd left so long ago.

The child looked unconvinced. "But she's in _prison_," he urged, giving his godfather a large-eyed look.

Before Sirius had time to respond, Pollux cut in. "She's just in holding, Harry," he assured the child, having correctly guessed what was worrying the boy. "They won't send her to Azkaban."

Harry still looked unconvinced, and he glanced at Sirius for confirmation.

"Send her to Azkaban?" Sirius echoed. "They wouldn't dare."

"But they sent _you_ to Azkaban." Harry's voice was barely more than a whisper.

Sirius smiled down at his godson. He laid down the newspaper on the table and put a reassuring hand on Harry's shoulder. "No one is going to Azkaban, Harry."

Harry still looked quite doubtful, but he let the subject drop in favour of continuing to eat is toast. He was just going to have to worry on his own, later, he decided.

Sirius, who'd returned to the newspaper, let out another chuckle. "This story's gold," he mumbled, taking a bite of his own toast. "_'In a valiant attempt to guard the orphan that had grown on them so, esteemed Cassiopeia and Arcturus Black fought against the aurors sent to retrieve Harry Potter._'" He gave Pollux a look. "I don't think Cassie's ever been called 'esteemed' before."

Pollux smiled at his grandson. "Only by people who don't know her very well."

They shared a laugh and then continued with their breakfast. Once they were done Pollux took them to the Ministry again, this time through the visitors' entrance. Harry found the whole thing quite exhilirating, if only a bit weird. Then again, he should be used to weird by now; he practically lived it.

Arriving at Lucius' office, they were greeted with a most pleasing sight. Narcissa was leaning against her husband's desk, arguing about something with Arcturus, who was sitting on the couch. Cassiopeia was standing, coming with snarky comments and inputs every now and then.

Harry, upon seeing his protectors free, let out a small whimper. Letting go of Sirius' hand, the child then rushed over to the slightly surprised Cassiopeia, clutching at the woman's legs. Cassie blinked for a few seconds, staring down at the child, but then she crouched down and enveloped him in a tight hug. When she stood again she brought Harry with her, carrying him with ease despite her age. She gave Sirius a questioning look.

The ex-convict shrugged. "He was 'fraid you lot would get shipped of to Azkaban," he explained.

Narcissa looked positively scandaloused. Before she had a chance to respond, however, her husband cut in. "As if the Ministry would dare," he muttered.

Giving her husband a scathing look, Narcissa then turned her sympathizing eyes back onto Harry, who was still starfished across Cassie's side. "How could the poor dear have known that?" she protested, giving her husband another glare.

Lucius resisted the urge to roll his eyes – it would only infuriate his wife – and instead turned to Sirius. For a second he entertained the thought of asking the man for a chat in private, but soon discarded the idea – the room were full of stubborn Blacks, and he had a hunch none of them would leave the room even if he did ask nicely. "I've had a chat with St. Mungo's," he told the man, knowing that he had every one elses' attention as well. "They have agreed to send over a child-healer later today."

Sirius first reaction was to protest; who did Lucius think he was? Reason, however, caught up with him, and he nodded. He didn't have to like it, but he knew it had to be done. They had to know just how extensive the Dursley's damage was, and what they would have to do to rectify it.

Cassiopeia gave her great-nephew a piercing look. "Are you sure you'll be able to handle it, boy?" she asked, glancing down at Harry. "It might not be pleasant." In fact, she was fairly sure it wouldn't be.

Seemingly steeling himself, Sirius then nodded gravely. "It has to be done," he said with a tone of finality.

The elderly witch nodded approvingly. She turned to Lucius. "When will this child-healer arrive, Mr. Malfoy?" Even with a child plastered over her hip she still managed to sound imposing. Narcissa absentmindedly thought of asking for lessons.

Lucius gave his relative-by-marriage a haughty look. "We scheduled the meeting just after noon," he told her.

Cassie nodded, apparently pleased with the answer. It was about time someone checked the child over, she thought. Really, it should have been done the moment Sirius had found him, but she had to admit that that might have been a tad bit problematic.

"Well, then," Pollux concluded. "That's that." He turned towards Sirius. "Are you and Harry returning to Grimmauld Place later?"

Sirius gave him a tight-lipped frown. "I'm not letting Harry set foot in that place until I've warded it enough to confound the entire Ministry should they come within a 20-mile radius."

Arcturus, who was still sitting in the couch, grinned approvingly. "You're beginning to sound like your father, boy."

Sirius tried to hide a grimace and pretended he hadn't heard the old man.

"Sirius," Narcissa asked suddenly, having realized something, "where is Remus?"

Glad for the distraction, Sirius turned towards his cousin. "At home, I think," he answered honestly. "Why?"

"Why isn't he with you?"

The man shrugged. "We figured Pollux wouldn't have room for all of us, and he offered to go home instead."

Narcissa let out a small "Oh," in response, and then let the subject drop. The look she shared with Pollux, however, told them both that she was going to look closer into this once Sirius was busy with something else. Cassiopeia noticed it, too, but for once she remained quiet.

"Well, then," Narcissa said, clasping her hands together. "I'm afraid I must be going. I simply can't leave my darling Draco home alone any longer." Alone was a bit of an exaggeration; there were two nannies and a dozen of house-elves ready to cater to his every whim. Still, she hadn't seen her baby for _hours_.

"Of course," Pollux said, smiling at the woman. She was such a mother hen.

They all said their goodbyes, and soon Narcissa had disappeared.

* * *

><p>Noon arrived soon enough, and the five of them awaited the healers arrival eagerly. Or, well, at least four of them were eager. Harry, on the other hand, was more than a little suspicious about this child-healer they were all waiting for, correct in his suspicions that it most definitely had something to do with him. There were no other children present, after all.<p>

Harry couldn't remember ever going to a doctor. Sure, there had been checkups in school with the school nurse, but apart from that he had no experience with doctors. He didn't know what to expect, but when the healer they had waited for walked into the office, Harry immediately knew she _wasn't_ what he'd expected.

Firstly it was a woman, about middle-aged, with graying hair pulled back in a tight braid. She was clad entirely in green, and she had a certain air of no-nonsense about her. Thin lips were pursed, and a frown marred her forehead.

"Mr. Malfoy," she greeted the only blonde in the room. Her eyes trailed over the trio of elders who were all looking deceptively innocent, and then over to Sirius and Harry. Her expression seemed decidedly unfavourable.

Lucius, having experience in dealing with sceptical people, smiled at her. "Ah, yes," he said smoothly, "we're so glad you could come, Healer..?"

"Ackley," the woman snapped out. It was clear as day she'd rather not be here.

Lucius eyes narrowed just a fraction. "Healer Ackley," he finished, a certain tone of haughtiness creeping into his tone. He was willing to bet a lot of money that the woman was so uneasy simply because of certain... rumours about a few of the people in the room. He himself had a bit of a rumour, after all, and most people still didn't know the details about Sirius recent release. Some even still believed him to be guilty. As for the trio of Blacks, well, the Black family did have a certain amount of rumours attached to its name, after all.

"There is no sense in dragging this out," Lucius continued smoothly, and gestured towards Harry. "Healer Ackley, meet Harry Potter. Harry, come over here."

The child did as asked after a reassuring nudge from Sirius, and hesitantly stepped over to the blonde. He was eyeing the new woman warily, not trusting her.

Healer Ackley made a move to begin her work, kneeling down in front of the child, when Lucius suddenly spoke again.

"Ah, of course, Mrs. Ackley, I'm sure you are aware that none of this will escape this office without my permission?"

The woman sent him a wiltering glare. "I know my oaths," she snapped, eyes flaring. Her expressions then mellowed out as she turned back to Harry. "Hello, Harry," she said kindly as she brought out her wand. "I'm Elizabeth."

"Hello, Elizabeth," the child greeted shyly.

Smiling, Healer Ackley continued. "I'm going to cast a few diagnostic spells, okay? They won't hurt at all," she explained in soft tones. Waiting for the child to nod in acceptance, she then rapidly cast a series of spells.

Harry could feel the magic course through him, and he let out a sudden giggle. "That tickles."

If Healer Ackley was surprised, she didn't show it. Instead, she just smiled at the child. "Magic does that sometimes." A few moments later the magic stopped, and the woman quickly conjured some parchment. The paper floated in the air for a few seconds, and then suddenly writing began to appear, neat lines of black ink writing out words.

"Why are you frowning?" Sirius suddenly asked the healer in alarm. "What's wrong?"

The woman glanced at him. "It's not supposed to take this long," she admitted, turning back to the floating paper. "It was just a few check-up spells." Then, finally, the writing stopped, and the magic faded.

Healer Ackley grabbed the paper, now filled to the brim with neat writing, and quickly scanned through it. Her frown deepened with every line. She turned towards the adults in the room. "Would someone of you kindly tell me who has regularly abused this child for his entire life?"

* * *

><p>Andromeda read the newspaper that day with mixed feelings.<p>

"Hey," her husband asked curiously over breakfast, "how is that Sirius-person related to you?" He didn't know much about his wife's family, mostly because Andromeda rarely wanted to talk about them.

"He's my cousin." Her tone was shorter than needed, something akin to a frown beginning to form on her features. "His mother was my aunt, on my father's side."

Ted let out a small "oh." He could see his wife was clearly troubled by the whole affair, and even though he wanted to comfort her he wasn't sure how. Andromeda had never discussed her old family with neither him nor Dora, and he found that he came up woefully short when trying to find a way to cheer his wife up.

Andromeda, being so caught up in thoughts about her cousin and the trial and his apparent release, barely even noticed her husband existed. Her eyes were thoughtful, calculating and there was a small crease between her eyebrows, a result from her frown.

Ted smiled fondly at the woman he loved. Confident in her abilities to sort her thoughts out, he gave her a small kiss on the cheek and then left her in the kitchen, knowing that he might as well get some useful work done while his wife contemplated things.

Barely noticing him leave, Andromeda took a thoughtful sip of her coffee. Sirius was innocent, or so it seemed, and was now a free man. That in itself wasn't too hard to fully understand – even though Andromeda shuddered at the thought of the man having been wrongfully sent to Azkaban, and for seven years, no less.

No, the thing troubling her the most was the fact that Lucius Malfoy had been the one pulling the strings. Andromeda knew as well as anyone just what kind of rumour the man had; if he'd been helping Sirius, surely that would simply serve to prove her cousin's guilt? She barely dared think about the alternative.

Her frown deepened. If Sirius was, as they said, completely innocent, Lucius involvement seemed strange, out of place, until one remembered to whom he was married. Andromeda hadn't seen her sister for many years, but she was willing to bet her right arm that Narcissa somehow had something to do with the entire thing.

* * *

><p>Surprisingly enough, it was Cassiopeia who handled the news best. Taking control over the situation, she turned intense eyes onto the healer. "Can you give us more details?"<p>

Healer Ackley gave her a disbelieving look. "Are you trying to tell me you don't _know_?"

Cassiopeia thought it quite impressive of herself not to hex the healer into the next oblivion right then and there. "We have only known the child for a few weeks," she explained in an icy tone.

The healer looked decidedly unconvinced. Cassiopeia could easily guess why, and she didn't like it one bit. "Now," the elderly woman continued, "Will you be so kind as to give us the details?"

The two women locked eyes, glaring hotly at each other, before healer Ackley finally looked away. She turned to the results of her scans. "There is far too many accidents here, even for an adventurous child," she began to explain. A small frown marred her brows. "There is also signs of malnutrition, hard labour and two broken bones."

"Broken _bones_!"

Glancing at an outraged Sirius, the healer nodded. "One broken arm," she glanced down into the papers, "and a broken index finger."

Harry, listening to the adults listing all the things wrong with him, could feel his face heat up in mortification. He was certain this meant he would get sent back to the Dursleys; how could Sirius and his grandparents and great-aunt _possibly_ want anything to do with him now that they knew just how much of a freak he was?

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Aaand another chapter. I'm a bit amazed I've managed to keep going for so long. And we're even closing in on chapter 20. Wow. Anyway, as I'm still on school computers with an inferior spell-check, nothing new has been added. Lucius is still Luscious, and Andromeda is still Dromedary.


	19. Chess

**Disclaimer**: You see, I got a call the other day from JK, and she said "Well, you seem like a fine young gal, so I figured I'd just give you the ownership of the Harry Potter-verse," and then she gave me all of her money. (That, my friends, was a _lie_.)

* * *

><p>The rest of Harry's check-up had gone routinely, and at the end the healer had, with some convincing from Cassiopeia, promised to await their orders before revealing to anyone what she had found out. The group had then went their different ways; Lucius had gone home to his family, Arcturus had accompanied Cassiopeia to her house, and Pollux had brought Sirius and Harry home with him.<p>

His guests were now fast asleep in their room. Pollux had initially given them separate rooms, but Harry kept sneaking into Sirius' room, anyway, and this night the ex-convict hadn't even bother to tuck the child into his own bed.

Pollux, despite feeling tiredness creep up on him, had opted to stay awake a while longer. His head was swirling with thoughts as he sat in his living room, absentmindedly staring at the dying embers of the fire in the fire-place.

Suddenly the embers flared up into a flame, and Narcissa's head appeared in the flames. "Good evening, Grandfather," she said, a wisp of smoke escaping her mouth.

"Narcissa," the elderly man greeted with a nod. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"

The woman's expression was grim. "We need to talk."

Pollux sighed. "It's about that friend of Sirius', isn't it? What was his name..?"

"Remus Lupin," Narcissa confirmed with a nod. "You've noticed how he's been acting too, haven't you?"

"Of course," Pollux nodded. "Do you think he is loyal to Dumbledore?"

The woman frowned. "It certainly seems that way, yes," she agreed, "though I can't for my life understand why he would be after everything."

"Sheep doesn't need any particular reason to follow the herder," he pointed out.

Narcissa looked dubious. "Do you really see him as a mindless sycophant?"

This was really getting all too troublesome, Pollux decided. "No, no I don't," he admitted. "He seems too smart for that."

"Exactly."

Narcissa's tone reminded Pollux quite a lot about Cassiopeia. "What do you suggest we do, then?" he asked, genuinely curious about what the woman might have planned.

Frowning, she looked thoughtful for a second. "I'm not entirely sure," she then admitted. "I think I'll pay him a visit tomorrow to show him the results of Harry's check-up. If he's still blindly loyal to Dumbledore," she spit out the name like a curse, "we will have to do something."

Pollux nodded in approval. "Do you need company when confronting him?"

She looked positively insulted. "I can take care of myself, thank you very much," she snapped at him, and Pollux was yet again struck with memories of a young Cassie.

He smiled. "Very well then. If that was all for tonight, I shall have to bid you a good night, dear."

Still indignant, Narcissa managed to get out a farewell and then cut the connection. Pollux remained in his seat for several minutes, his eyes fixed on the dying embers where the woman's head had been.

* * *

><p>Harry didn't get much sleep that night. While lying curled up next to Sirius did make him feel safe, content and reassured, there was still too much going on in his mind for him to be able to rest. The thoughts about the day he'd had were particularly loud, crashing around inside his skull until he was quite sick of it. His examination had been possibly the most embarrasing event in his entire life – his ears still got red when he thought of it – and he never wanted to do it again.<p>

Thankfully, no one had decided to send him back to the Dursleys, at least – even though he didn't quite trust the healer – and Harry had a suspicion that Sirius wouldn't let them if they tried. Well, it was more of a hope, really, but it was a comforting thought as he snuggled closer to the man. Even though it might not last, Harry was determined to make the most of it while he could.

* * *

><p>If Remus was surprised to see her, he hid it well, Narcissa thought as she greeted the rugged man. Without waiting for an invitation she entered his small, spartan room, giving it a critical look-over.<p>

He didn't seem amused. "What can I do for you, Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked, politely, of course, but Narcissa was an experienced enough player in the game to easily notice all the undercurrents in his voice. He was most definitely not happy to see her.

She smiled at him. "Back to formalities, is it?" she asked with a teasing smile.

The look he gave her was flat. "Why are you here?" Judging from his voice he wanted nothing more than to throw her out, but was still too civilized to do so.

Narcissa smiled again, her eyes glistening dangerously. "I just thought I'd come over with the result of yesterday's check-up," she told him innocently.

He frowned. "Check-up? What check-up?"

"Oh, nothing serious, I assure you. We simply had a child-healer come over to give Harry a little check-up. It's important to make sure growing boys are healthy, after all."

It was quite obvious he wasn't buying her feigned innocence. "What did the healer find out?"

Narcissa fixed him with grey eyes and pulled out the file from her robes. She wasn't smiling as she handed it over to him. Then she took a step back, carefully observing him as he skimmed through the report. His expression darkened by the second. By the end of it, his hand was shaking, and when he looked up at her with furious amber eyes, Narcissa felt a pang of fear.

"Who is responsible for this?" he demanded in a deceptively calm voice.

The blonde's eyes were calculating. "The muggles he lived with," she told him, watching his expressions shift. "The muggles Dumbledore left him with."

Taking in the fixation of his jaw, his shaking hands and how his amber eyes were practically burning with something dark and animalistic, Narcissa had to admit the ragged man in front of her frightened her, and she found herself grasping her wand for comfort.

"Are you sure of this?" he demanded, waving the parchment at her. "A hundred percent?"

Resisting the urge to huff indignantly, Narcissa gave him a cold look. "You've seen all the evidence, and yet still you doubt? Does your friend's son mean so little to you?"

She could see she'd struck a nerve. The man's amber eyes widened, shick written clear over his features, and then his brows furrowed into a scowl, his eyes narrowing dangerously.

"You have a lot of nerve," he said, voice deceptively calm, and his hands were still shaking, "to suggest I do not care for Harry, Malfoy."

So they were back on last name-term now, were they? Narcissa looked decidedly unimpressed. "I am not the only one who doubts," she told him with a sneer. "Your actions speak against you, _Lupin_, and even Sirius is beginning to see that."

She might as well have punched him. "Sirius would never-"

"Believe wrong of you?" she interrupted. "Like you did of him?"

She'd struck another nerve. Remus's mouth snapped shut, and she could see the hurt clear in his eyes. For a quick second she thought she might have gone too far, but she quickly squashed those thoughts. She had no time for sympathy.

Gathering her robes around her, she gave him a last pointed look. "Remember where your loyalities lie, Mr. Lupin," she told him icily, and then swept past him, leaving him alone in the room.

* * *

><p>If he had to be completely honest with himself – and he liked to think he was – Albus Dumbledore had to admit he hadn't expect the young werewolf to barge into his office like this, hands shaking, amber eyes furious. In his hands he held a piece of parchment, and for some reason Dumbledore felt a chill slither up his spine. He suspected this would not be a pleasant conversation.<p>

"Remus," he greeted jovially, despite the tension in the room. "To what do I owe this surprise?" Of course, it wasn't too much of a surprise; Dumbledore had been aware of the werewolf's presence since the moment he entered the school.

Remus slapped the parchment down on the headmaster's desk. "Explain," he demanded through clenched teeth.

Dumbledore sighed. "Take a seat, my boy," he offered, gesturing towards one of the empty chairs. He reached for the parchment. "Lemon drop?"

"Read it, Albus," Remus snapped.

Giving the upset werewolf a last, calculating look, Dumbledore then turned his attention to the parchment in his hand, quickly skimming through the lines. His frown deepened with every sentence. "Where did you get this?"

Remus' eyes were almost glowing with fury, the wolf lurking just beneath the surface. "That's the result of Harry's check-up with a St. Mungos' Healer," he explained, voice trembling with anger. "That's his entire life. Is there anything you would like to explain, Albus?"

The elderly wizard let out a deep sigh. "I never thought they would take it that far," he said, shaking his head.

Yellow eyes ablaze with fury, Remus could hardly believe what he was hearing. "You bloody well should have!" he shouted into the old man's face. "You _knew_ how much Lily's sister despised her, Albus. You _knew_."

Dumbledore let out another sigh. "I was certain that she would overcome her dislike of her sister when presented with her nephew," he explained, but it sounded weak even to his own ears. "They are family, after all."

Remus gestured towards the result of Harry's check-up. "_That_," he said, voice cold, "is not something family does." Then he simply stormed out of the office, finding that he couldn't bear spending another minute in the presence of the old man. His wolf growled inside of him, thrashing against his mind as a result of the anger. Only biting out a quick farewell to Minerva, he quickly made his way to the apparation point just outside of the shcool, and apparated away. He needed a drink.

* * *

><p>Still living with Pollux, Harry and Sirius had fallen into some sort of routine. They got up way, ate their breakfast with Pollux, and then Cassiopeia came over to keep an eye on Harry as Sirius and Pollux went over to Grimmauld Place to ward the place out of existance. Harry found he didn't mind it too much, being alone with Cassie; the woman was never mean to him, and he liked how she treated him as if he was a grown up.<p>

Most of his days were, surprisingly enough, spent with Cassie trying to teach him the fine art that was chess. She wasn't an expert on it herself – both Arcturus and Pollux were better than her – but she knew the basics, and she thought it an important skill to have. Harry, while perhaps not the most strategic of persons, turned out to be a quick thinker and was soon good enough with the game to actually have to make Cassiopeia think about her moves.

When lunchtime arrived she and the child migrated to the dining room, where Kreacher and Pollux's houseelf served them a delicious meal. Both Cassiopeia and her Great-Nephew's houseelf were adamant in making Harry finish every last bit of his meal, and then have him eat a little more just in case. He was far too skinny, that child, and now that Cassiopeia knew why she was in the mood to throw a hex or two.

Once they'd eaten they went back into the living room, where Harry insisted they continued to play chess. He'd begun to get the hang of the game, and found to his surprise that it was quite fun, even though he never actually managed to beat Cassiopeia.

"Did you know my parents?" he asked suddenly, glancing up from the board. He had barely talked during most of the day, and took Cassie by surprise.

"No," she admitted after collecting herself, "never in person. I knew _of_ them, though."

She could see she'd piqued his curiosity. "Where they famous?"

"Not until later in the war," she explained. "Before that I simply knew your father as one of Sirius' friends from school, but I never actually met him." Of course, that may have been mostly because of Dorea not wanting her child to have anything to do with her old family. It had been unfortunate, but as she had been married to a then respectable pureblood wizard, the family had accepeted it.

The child was quiet for a while, brows furrowed in thought. "Why was there a war, Aunt Cassiopeia?"

Cassiopeia thought it quite an improvement for him to actually call her 'aunt'. "Because people had different views on how things should be done, and those differences eventually led to hate." It was a very simplified explanation, of course, but she figured she shouldn't give him the long one just yet; better let Sirius handle that one.

Harry let out a small "Oh," and then frowned again. "Why couldn't they just have talked it out?"

Smiling, the elderly witch shook her head. "Some people just don't want to talk, dear," she told him, and with one last move won over him in chess. Again.

* * *

><p>Two days later Sirius had deemed Grimmauld Place 12 a livable place again, and he was even so pleased with his handiwork that he let Cassiopeia come with them as he came to take Harry home again.<p>

"Impressive," the woman said, glancing around the living room. She could feel the wards enclosing the entire house.

Sirius grinned at her. Harry was standing beside him, holding his godfather's hand as he shyly glanced around the room. Curiosity shone in his eyes.

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes briefly at the child as a thought struck her, but she remained quiet. Still, she caught Arcturus eye, and he knew her well enough to be able to decipher the look she gave him. They were going to have a little chat once this was over.

She turned back to Sirius. "Did you use Orion's old wards, or..?"

He shook his head. "They were too old," he said, "and too bloody."

A smile tugged at her lips as she remembered how Orion's, Sirius' father, wards had worked. Trying to apparate into Grimmauld Place had been a very, very bad idea. Knowing her brother, her cousin and her great-nephew, she had a feeling it would still be a very, very bad idea to try and apparate into the house, though perhaps not as messy.

"We cleaned up the rest of the house, too," Sirius continued, sounding quite pleased with himself. "It's practically habitable now."

Cassiopeia nodded. "Good," she said, almost absentmindedly. "Who have access to the house now?"

He gave her a look. "Right now? Only us." He gestured towards the people in the room – himself, Pollux, Arcturus, her and Harry.

Surprised at having been included, Cassie raised an eyebrow, and then smiled approvingly. "Will you include Narcissa, too?"

Sirius grimaced. "Most likely, yeah," he said. "Don't know about her husband, though."

Arcturus took the opportunity to scoff. "That charlatan certainly doesn't need access to our family home," he said.

"Be nice," Cassiopeia chided without real effort behind it. In fact, she quite agreed with her cousin; she'd never been a fan of Lucius Malfoy.

The three elders stayed for a little while longer, and then they left Harry and Sirius to their own devices. Pollux went back to his own home, saying something about having a few books to read, and Cassiopeia followed Arcturus back to his house, fully intending to hold that little chat.

Arcturus seemed to agree with her, because he immediately led her into his study, where he sat down behind his desk. Cassiopeia helped herself to some wine and sat down in an arm-chair.

"What was it you wanted to talk about?" Arcturus asked, giving his cousing a piercing look. He knew her well enough to know this would be interesting.

"How much do we know about the child's magical powers?" the woman asked, sipping her wine.

Arcturus' eyebrows rose. "We know he is strong enought to send Pollux flying," he reminded her with a small smile.

Cassie let out a chuckle. "There is that, yes," she agreed. "Apart from that we don't know too much, do we?"

"We do know his parents were quite powerful," he said, giving her a thoughtful look.

She feigned horrified surprise. "_Artie_!" she said. "Talking like that about a _mudblood_?"

He gave her a pointed look. "Regardless of her unfortunate ancestry, there is no mistake that Lily Evans was very magically gifted."

Cassie let out a sigh. "Where is the world coming to," she muttered, still feigning horror, "when respectable purebloods admit a mere muggleborn has magic."

The old man shrugged. "She is not the only halfblood or muggleborn with power," he reminded her sharply. "I may dislike the man, but there is no doubt that Dumbledore is strong, as was his... adversary."

Cassiopeia was suddenly very alert. "I see Pollux have spoken to you about _that_, then?"

"He may have mentioned it, yes."

The woman frowned. "Do you really believe it is true?"

"The evidence certanly points that way, don't you think?"

"Yes," she agreed, "but that doesn't mean we have to accept it."

"But you already have, haven't you?"

She let out a sigh. "Of course I have," she told him. "It's too much of a coincidence not to be true, after all."

Arcturus nodded gravely. "That it is, dear cousin, that it is."

* * *

><p>"So let me get this straight," Lucius said, giving his wife a look, "you want to bring Draco over to Grimmauld Place?"<p>

"Exactly. Harry needs someone his own age around, and what better friend could he have than our own son?"

"I won't have it." He was strangely adamant about it.

Narcissa raised her eyebrows at her husband. "And why is that?"

"Because _Black_ is there."

"Darling, he is family," Narcissa pointed out.

"And he's mad as a hatter." He didn't understand why they were having this conversation. Couldn't she just see how bonkers her cousin really was? He certainly could.

She rolled her eyes at him. "As is your dear mother, but you don't complain when Draco spends time with her."

"Leave my mother out of this," he countered. He had a distinct feeling that he was starting to lose this argument, and decided to end it before that could happen. "Draco will not go there, and that is my final word."

Narcissa eyed him shrewdly. "Fine," she said, taking him by surprise. "Then they'll simply have to come here."

The mere thought of it made Lucius faint. "I will _not_ let Black into the house, Narcissa."

"Then I and Draco will go to Grimmauld Place. Either way, Draco and Harry _are_ meeting each other, wether you like it or not."

Lucius glared at his wife, but she just smiled at him. "Fine," he relented after a while, "take him to that bloody place if you must."

Narcissa, having won, gave him a wonderful smile. "Thank you, dear," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "We'll be back later tonight." With that said, she left her grumbling husband in favour of finding her darling son.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: First of all, I am _so_ sorry for being this late with this update. It's just that life and school sort ganged up on me and beat me up in an alley, and I didn't stand a chance. Things have calmed down now, though, so I should be able to start updating again. Also, a million thanks to everyone who has reviewed and added this story to their alerts during these months of silence. It really means a lot to me to know you want to read more.


	20. A Magic Carpet Ride

**Disclaimer**: I know, I know - I think it's strange, too. Still, it's not mine.

* * *

><p>Draco wasn't nearly as certain as his mother that going to visit some cousin of hers was a good idea, especially not when he'd heard his father call said cousin a madman. Draco didn't want to go visit some madman. He'd tried to tell his mother this, but she'd only smiled at him and told him that it was time he acquainted himself with the Black side of his family.<p>

The little blonde was highly sceptical to the whole thing, but he knew better than to argue with his mother, which was he was now waiting for her to finish her floo-call to her cousin so that they could get going. Draco briefly wondered if he should find his father and have him make mother see reason, but before he could set his plan in action Narcissa finished her floo-call and turned to her son.

"Straighten your back, darling," she said. "A Malfoy does not slouch."

Reluctantly he straightened up, and then went up to the large fire-place with his mother. She laid her arm around his shoulders, and with her free hand she took a handful of floopowder, threw it into the fire and said "Grimmauld Place 12," in a loud and clear voice.

Several spins later they arrived in a living room Draco had never seen before, and it was only his mother's steadying arm around his shoulder that stopped him from falling out of the fireplace.

They stepped out into the living room, and only then did Draco notice the ragged, gaunt looking man sitting on the couch. He glanced uncertainly up at his mother. Surely _this_ couldn't be an esteemed pureblood wizard, could it?

The man let out a chuckle. "Your son doesn't seem to be too impressed by me, Narcissa," he said, giving the blonde child, who was half hiding behind his mother now, a grin.

"You're not a very impressive sight, Sirius," Narcissa countered airily. She pushed Draco back into view again, steering him with her arm around his shoulder. "Draco, darling," she said, "this is Sirius Black, my cousin. Sirius, this is my son. Draco."

Draco mumbled out a greeting just to please his mother, and briefly wondered to himself if they perhaps could go back home now that he'd met the man.

"Nice meeting you too," the man said, and his grin unnerved Draco quite a bit. Why did his mother have to insist he meet her strange cousins?

Sirius turned back to Narcissa. "Cup of tea?" he asked.

Narcissa graciously accepted, and gently led Draco to one of the arm-chairs. She chose a seat on the couch for herself, and moments later Kreacher, who was wearing some sort of hat, had appeared with a tray of cups and a pot of tea, and even a small tray of biscuits. Draco hesitantly nibbled on one, and found to his surprise that they were quite good.

His mother and her cousin continued their small talk, and Draco stopped listening until he heard his name being mentioned.

"Where is Harry?" his mother asked. "I thought that maybe he and Draco would get along."

Draco seriously doubted that; anyone living with a madman like her mother's cousin couldn't possibly be someone he'd get along with. It was just impossible.

Sirius let out another chuckle. "He'll come down soon, I think," he said, and there was something in his tone that made Draco frown. The man turned to Draco. "Draco," he said, "why don't you go out in the hallway and wait for him?"

Draco really didn't want to, but one look from his mother told him he had no choice, and so it was with great reluctance he slipped down from the arm-chair and walked over to the doorway that led out into a large hallway. Glancing to one side he saw a set of stairs leading up, and he was just about to look away when a sudden noise suddenly caught his attention. He only had a few seconds to wonder what it was before something came into view, swishing down the stairs.

The something turned out to be a carpet, and on it sat a skinny boy and a wrinkly house elf. Both of them were wearing strange leather hats Draco had never seen before, with the flaps covering the ear jerking with the wind of their descent, and the child was wearing a pair of goggles that covered half of his face. Their carpet slid past Draco, and then, running out of speed, came to a halt.

Inside the living room Draco could hear his mother's cousin laugh.

The kid on the carpet stood up, and even though Draco couldn't see his eyes through the goggles, he got the feeling that the kid was staring at him suspiciously. Tufts of black hair stuck out from under his hat, and he was wearing simple but elegant – although a bit ruffled – clothes that Draco knew had once been his.

Then, the kid pushed the goggles up on his forehead, revealing a set of startlingly green eyes. Draco had been right; the kid _was_ staring at him with suspicion.

At a loss on what to do, Draco did the first thing that came to mind; he presented himself.

Staring at his outstretched hand, the kid hesitated for a moment before grasping it. "Harry," he said. "I'm Harry."

The two children stared at each other, neither knowing what to do. Harry bit his lip and glanced at the carpet he'd used to get down the stairs. He looked back at Draco.

"I'm going to go up again," he said with determination. "Do you – do you want to come?"

Draco blinked. "I-I don't have a hat," he mumbled, feeling very insecure. He did not know how to handle this situation, and he was very tempted to run back to his mother. She would know what to do.

Harry smiled at him. "It's okay," he assured the blonde. "You can borrow mine." He took of his hat, revealing a head of messy black hair, and held it out to Draco.

Draco hesitantly accepted it, and glanced over his shoulder at his mother for one second before pulling it over his head. It flattened his already flat hair down even more, and Draco thought it felt decidedly strange.

Harry, on the other hand, seemed to think it was wonderful, because he smiled widely, and then turned to Kreacher. "Could you take the carpet back up again, please?"

The house elf saluted him, and with a small pop he disappeared, the carpet disappearing along with him.

Turning back to Draco, Harry gave the blonde an expectant look. "Let's go!" he said, and suddenly he was running back to the stairs.

Draco only hesitated for one second to seek out his mother's eyes. When she smiled at him and nodded, he hurried after the black-haired boy.

* * *

><p>Listening to the children run upstairs, Narcissa shook her head, a smile playing on her lips. "A carpet?" she asked, giving her cousin a look. "Really?"<p>

Sirius grinned at her. "It's the best way to get down stairs," he assured her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Narcissa shook her head again, but she was still smiling. "I see Harry has made a lot of progress," she commented offhandedly, taking a sip from her tea.

The man leaned back in the couch. "Yeah, I suppose" he said with a shrug.

She gave him a look over her teacup. "A week ago I wouldn't have expected him to be so open," she pointed out.

Sirius smiled. "Yeah, yeah, I know," he admitted. "I think Cassie's to blame for that."

"Yes, she's taken quite a liking to the boy, hasn't she?" Narcissa couldn't help but smile at the thought of someone like Cassiopeia taking a liking to a child, even though the child was as adorable as Harry.

He let out a snicker. "Tell me about it," he said. "She's even taught him how to play chess."

One of Narcissa's elegantly arched eyebrows rose. "Does he show any talent with it?"

"He's not the most strategic person," Sirius admitted, "but he's quick enough on his feet to make up for that, I think. Cassie certainly seems to enjoy it."

Narcissa smiled. "Just you wait," she promised him, "she'll make a proper Slytherin out of him, I'm sure."

Sirius gave her a horrified look. "Don't blaspheme," he said, trying to hide a smile. "It's obvious the child is a pure Gryffindor."

"You keep thinking that, sweetie," Narcissa said amiably, taking another sip from her tea. She was quite certain the boy would not end up in Gryffindor, especially not if he was going to grow up around a bunch of old Slytherins. Of course, she planned to do her best to lead the child down the path of the snakes, too, but she didn't think she'd have quite as much influence on the child as Cassiopeia had.

* * *

><p>Draco and Harry ended up spending several hours on their carpet, and they had even decided that Harry would be the captain, and Draco would be the first mate. Kreacher had been given the title navigator. Harry had read about adventurers once, and both he and Draco had thought it a wonderful idea to pretend they were out exploring some unknown lands in their magnificent ship. Of course, Draco didn't know much about the whole thing – he was, understandably, quite clueless about muggle stories – but he caught on quick enough, and the boys had a blast flying down the stairs on their carpet.<p>

The day soon came to an end, though, and Narcissa could only smiled at the children's disappointed groans as she announced that it was time for her and Draco to head back home.

"Can we at least come back tomorrow?" Draco implored of his mother after having failed to convince her that staying was of utmost importance. "Please?"

Harry, who was standing beside Sirius, helped by giving Narcissa a hopeful, wide-eyed look.

Narcissa smiled at the boys. "You'll have to ask Sirius about that, dear," she told her son.

Harry was quick to get his godfather's attention. "Oh, Sirius, can't they come over tomorrow too?"

Sirius pretended to look thoughtful, only because he knew it aggravated the boys.

"_Please_, uncle Sirius," Draco added.

The man let out a laugh. "There's no resisting you two, is there?" he mumbled, and then turned to Narcissa. "How about you come over for lunch tomorrow?"

The children cheered.

"Sounds wonderful," Narcissa said with a smile. "Draco? Say goodbye to Harry and Sirius now."

Draco did as he was told, and then followed his mother to the floo. He waved to Harry a last time, and then Narcissa threw down the floo powder and they were whisked away.

Sirius pulled down Harry into his lap. "Had fun today, Prongslet?"

Harry settled into the embrace, smiling. "Yes," he said, leaning back against his godfather. "Draco was very fun."

Sirius, who'd noticed just how much the blonde child had looked like his father, shook his head with a smile. Who would've thought a Malfoy would know how to have fun? "That's wonderful," he told his godson. Then, his stomach suddenly grumbled. "How about we go and get some dinner?"

Harry, who'd spent the entire day tiring himself out by running up the stairs all the time, thought it was a wonderful plan.

* * *

><p>Remus was awakened by the sound of an owl tapping impatiently on his window. Groaning, he rolled over in his bed, fully intent to ignore it. The owl tapped even more impatiently, and Remus finally sat up, muttering darkly under his breath. A quick tempus charm told him it was nearing dinner time. He was still wearing the clothes he'd hastily pulled on after the night before he went back to his room.<p>

Standing up, he ignored the various aches spread out all over his body. Stretching a bit as he walked up to the window, he let in the impatient owl, which immediately swooshed past him and landed on the back of the single chair in the room. It gave him a haughty look and held out its leg.

Briefly wondering who'd be sending _him_ anything, he untied the letter. He gave the owl a look, his eyebrows raised, but the bird ignored him, opting instead to groom its feathers. Looking at it for a few more moments, Remus then turned his attention to the piece of parchment in his hand.

The scrawl was almost painfully familiar, and the simple words 'Are you okay?' scribbled down hit him deeper than he thought it would. The signature was a simple S, and he didn't need to think hard to know who had sent him the letter.

It seemed Sirius had remembered that it had been a full moon last night.

Smiling even though his face hurt, Remus quickly pulled out a pen and some parchment from his desk. Writing down a quick answer in neat letters, he then tied it to the owl's leg. He let the bird jump up on his arm, and then carried it to the window.

"Go back to the one who sent you," he told the bird.

Giving him a haughty look, the owl huffed, and then threw itself out into the air, effortlessly gliding away. Remus closed the window after it, and then made his way back to the bed again. He was going to sleep some more.

* * *

><p>"You should get an owl of your own," Narcissa chastised her cousin. She and Draco had returned the next day, as promised, and Harry and Draco had immediately gone off exploring the large house.<p>

Sirius waved his hand at her dismissively. "Whatever," he said. He was slouching in the couch, as he often did, and a tray of tea and crumpets stood on the table.

Narcissa rolled her eyes at him, but didn't comment further. She just silently made up her mind that she was going to make him go to Diagon Alley somehow, even if it meant she would have to stun him and apparate him there herself.

The floo flared up, and Sirius lazily glanced towards the fire-place. "Hey, Cass," he greeted his great-aunt.

The elderly woman ignored him. "Narcissa," she greeted. "What a surprise to see you here."

Narcissa smiled. "I could say the same, great aunt," she said.

Cassiopeia scoffed. "I bet," she muttered. "Where is Harry?"

"I expect he and Draco are in one of the spare bedrooms," Narcissa told the woman, still smiling. "They're exploring."

The elderly woman's eyebrows rose. "So you finally brought that son of yours around? Good, Harry needs someone his own age around."

A bit disappointed that her great-aunt hadn't risen to the bait, Narcissa still had to admit the woman was right. Even in the two days the two boys had known each other, Harry's progress was still quite palpable.

Cassiopeia took a seat in one of the arm-chairs, and the two women continued their small talk. Sirius came with an input every now and then, but mostly he laid sprawled out over the couch, waiting for the owl to return.

A while after Cassiopeia's arrival the two boys came back downstairs, and Harry's face lit up as he laid eyes on the old woman.

"Aunt Cassie!" he said, running across the room to give her a large hug.

A soft smile crept onto Cassiopeia's features. "Hello to you, too, Harry."

Sirius and Narcissa shared a look, and Sirius had to look away lest he start laughing. Cassiopeia noticed, of course, and sent a harmless hex his way. She then turned to Draco.

"You must be Draco," she said.

The blonde child shifted, glancing at his mother. "Y-yes ma'am."

Narcissa decided to save her child from possible humiliation. "Draco," she said, getting the boy's attention, "this is your great-aunt Cassiopeia."

"Nice to meet you," the boy said, trying his best to sound as sure and confident as his mother.

The elderly woman smiled approvingly at him "Nice to meet you too, Draco."

Potential disaster had been averted, and Cassie turned her attention back to Harry, who was all too happy to explain to her what he and Draco had been up to. Soon the two children set off again to explore another part of the house, discussing wildly with each other about what they might find there. It was a mix of both magical and muggle subjects, and Cassiopeia raised an eyebrow at her great-nephew.

Sirius held up his hands in defence. "They came up with it all on their own."

Rolling her eyes, Cassie turned to Narcissa. "Dear, I do believe we must ensure that Harry gets some proper knowledge about the world he lives in, don't you?"

Narcissa smiled. "I was thinking the same thing," she admitted. "It wouldn't do for the boys to play _muggle_ games."

Sirius decided to cut in. "Oi," he said, getting both women's attention. "He can be as muggle as he likes when he plays, okay?" He gave them both serious looks. He was going to be quite adamant about this fact.

Cassiopeia narrowed her eyes at him, but to his surprise she nodded. "He is your charge," she said simply, taking a sip of her tea. Still, she gave him a look. "That doesn't mean we won't teach him about his own world, though."

Feeling placated, Sirius nodded. "As long as you don't try to make him into some pureblood maniac," he warned them. "His mother was a muggle-born, and there was _nothing_ wrong with Lily Potter."

Of course, both Cassiopeia and Narcissa might have disagreed with him there, but neither protested. Cassiopeia did it because she for once respected Sirius' wishes, and Narcissa did it because she was a mother too, and she wouldn't have wanted someone make Draco dislike _her_, had the roles been different.

Sirius was quite surprised, and more than a little suspicious, but he decided to let it drop for now. He was further distracted from the subject when the owl suddenly returned, tapping impatiently on the window.

Letting the two women continue the conversation without him, he quickly let the owl in, taking the parchment tied to its leg. He waved the bird away and read the neat words. 'I will be', was all they said, but it was all Sirius needed.

* * *

><p>Cassiopeia spent dinner that night at Arcturus', and she updated her cousin on the progress in Grimmauld Place as they ate. Arcturus nodded approvingly, and was even okay with Harry playing with a Malfoy.<p>

"His mother is a Black," was his only explanation, and it was all Cassie needed.

When she began telling him how she was teaching the boy how to play chess, he got interested for real. "Is he any good?"

"He shows promise," she assured him between bites. "He needs to learn to plan ahead, but he is very bright and a quick thinker."

Arcturus nodded approvingly. "You should get him interested in reading," he suggested. "Set a good base before he goes to school."

Cassie shook her head. "I'm going to let Pollux handle that one," she said. "He was always the bookish one."

Her cousin scoffed. "He'll make the boy into a Ravenclaw," he warned her.

Cassiopeia only laughed.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Another chapter so soon, just because I love you guys. Also, I should start introducing new characters and places so that spell-check can look at me and slowly shake its head in wonder.


	21. Table Manners

**Disclaimer**: I wish.

* * *

><p>"But mother," Draco whined, "why can't we visit Harry and Sirius instead?"<p>

Narcissa smiled at her son. "Because we've been invited to dinner with the Parkinsons, dear."

"But I don't _want_ to go to dinner there."

"Don't be rude," Narcissa chastised. "I thought you liked Pansy."

The boy sighed. "She's all right," he admitted, "it's just that she's so – so _girly_."

Shaking her head with a smile, Narcissa adjusted Draco's robes. "That's not necessarily a bad thing, darling."

Draco was, of course, highly unconvinced, but in the end he didn't have a choice. Narcissa took her son's arm, and accompanied by her husband she apparated over to the Parkinson Residence. It wasn't as grand as Malfoy Manor, of course, but it was still a respectable home. Mrs. and Mr. Parkinson greeted them warmly, and several pleasantries were exchanged. Draco reluctantly went with Pansy, knowing that his mother would be quite upset with him he wasn't politeness personified.

All the time he kept wishing he was over at Grimmauld Place with Harry and Sirius.

* * *

><p>That night Arcturus came over to Grimmauld Place 12, announcing that he would join the two inhabitants for dinner. Sirius was, of course, quite suspicious of his grandfather, but Harry seemed to be glad of the company. When Pollux arrived merely ten minutes after Arcturus, Sirius began to suspect some sort of conspiracy. Harry was simply delighted.<p>

Sirius informed Kreacher of the extra guests, and the elf seemed to be just as delighted as Harry was over the company. Sirius watched the house elf pop away, shook his head and muttered something about crazy elves, and then joined the others in the living room. Arcturus had chosen an arm-chair for himself, and Pollux was sitting on the couch. Harry was in his usual place, his legs pulled up against his chest.

Giving his grandfathers a look, Sirius slumped down into the couch. "So," he said, "what are you two planning?"

The two Slytherins looked far too innocent, if that was even a possibility.

Pollux was the first one to speak. "We wanted to talk to you, actually," he said, giving Sirius a peering look. "About Harry's… education."

Sirius' eyebrows rose. "I've already told Cass this," he said. "I'm not going to let you turn Harry into some pureblood maniac."

"The boy needs a solid education, Sirius," Arcturus said, avoiding his grandson's accusation. "He's going to be a part of _our_ world now, as he was meant to be, and he needs to know how it works."

Pollux was quick to agree. "Arcturus is right, Sirius. The boy can't grow up without a proper base of education."

Sirius grimaced. He wanted to argue, but inside he knew his grandfathers had a point. It _would_ be useful for Harry to know about the world he lived in. "How do you propose we do this, then?" he said with resignation.

The two elderly men looked like cats that'd gotten the milk. "Cassie has already begun," Pollux pointed out, "with teaching him how to play chess."

Harry, who'd silently been listening to the three men discuss him, wanted to say something. He tried to restrain himself, however, as Uncle Vernon had taught him not to disturb adults when they were talking. It was rude. Besides, he wasn't unused to being ignored, so it wasn't too bad. He just wished they'd pay him some attention, that was all.

Sirius, who only then seemed to realize Harry was still there, turned to his godson. Really, the boy was too quiet for his own good. "What do you think, prongslet?"

The child seemed surprised at being spoken to, and even more surprised that they were asking him for _his_ opinion. No one had ever done that before, except a teacher or two back in school, but they rarely kept it up.

For a brief moment Pollux was visibly startled when Sirius spoke to the child, having to admit to the embarrasing fact that he'd forgotten the boy was there. He quickly regained his composture, however, like the Slytherin he was.

He smiled at Harry. "I think all this might be a bit too much so soon," he said gently, getting a relieved and grateful look from the boy. "How about we go and eat some dinner, and then you two," he nodded towards Sirius and Harry, "can discuss things once me and Arcturus have left. There's no need to rush things, after all."

Arcturus gave his cousin a shrewd look, but still nodded in agreement. They could afford to wait a few days.

Dinner was a pleasant affair, the grown ups keeping light conversation, sometimes including Harry in it, too. Kreacher had seemed to take extra care with his cooking, and Harry made sure to personally thank the elf, even thought the large-eyed creature had kept refilling his plate.

Arcturus raised an eyebrow at the child, watching him go away to do something with the house-elf. "Is he always so... _polite_ to the house-elf?" The mere thought was a bit odd to him; house-elves were servants, not friends.

Sirius shrugged. "He likes him," he defended his godson, "and kreacher likes Harry." _That_ was what was strange to Sirius; the bitter house-elf actually caring for someone who wasn't a mad Black.

Pollux nodded. "I haven't seen that elf take such care of anyone since Regulus died," he commented with a thoughtful look on his face.

Grimacing, Sirius chose not to comment on that, and the conversation soon returned to lighter topics. Eventually it got late enough for the two elderly wizards to return back to their own homes, and after bidding their hosts farewell the two disappeared through the floo. Harry and Sirius stayed up a little while longer, but soon the child began to yawn, and Sirius decided it was bedtime. He could use some sleep himself, anyway.

* * *

><p>Waking up with a start, Harry suddenly realized that he was very thirsty. He first thought of calling for Kreacher, but then realized just how late it must be, and changed his mind. He didn't want to wake the elf up, after all.<p>

Softly sliding out of his bed, he snuck out of his room. A quick glance into the adjacent room where Sirius was sprawled out over his bed told the child that his godfather was very much asleep, which means he would have to make the descent to the kitchen on his own. He didn't mind it too much; he like the old house, even though it was kind of scary when dark, and he had a feeling the house liked him, too.

Making sure to skip the third step on the staircase between the first and second floor, he quickly padded down the last stair down into the kitchen. The room was pitch black, but Harry felt sure enough of the area to be able to find his way to the cupboard that had the glasses. He pulled one out, as silent as he could, and then almost dropped it in fright as a light suddenly lit up the room.

Standing by his little alcove, Kreacher held his lit hand up in the air to illuminate the room. "What is Master Harry doing up this late?" he asked, his huge yellow eyes glowing.

Harry, who'd managed to regain his senses, answered in a hushed voice. "I was just thirsty," he assured the elf.

Kreacher frowned at him. "Master Harry should have told Kreacher," he chided the boy.

"I didn't want to wake you up," Harry said, taking advantage of the light as he made his way over to the tap. "I'll go back up now."

The elf looked dubious, but the child's concern for him mellowed him. "Fine," the elf said. "Good night, Master Harry."

"G'night, Kreacher," Harry said, and then began the trek up again.

Once he reached the top of the stairs Kreacher's light disappeared, and the hallway was plunged into darkness. Harry had to take a few moments to let his eyes adjust to the lack of light, and he found that maybe he would've wanted the elf's company, after all. It was too late for that, though, he reasoned with himself, and began to walk towards the stairs leading up to the second floor.

Almsot by chance he happened to glance to his side just as he was walking past where Sirius' mother's portrait hung, and he saw the curtains were drawn apart. He was certain they hadn't been open when he walked down earlier.

"Is this a recurring habit of yours, being out of bed at such a late hour?" The woman's voice was stern, and Harry almost dropped his glass of water.

"I-I was thirsty, Mrs. Black," he told the painting, remembering their last encounter.

He could see her give him a sceptical look. "So it seems," she said, eyes lingering on the glass in his hands. Walburga gave him another long look through narrow eyes, and then seemed to make up her mind about something. "Well, then," she said, "you get straight back to bed, now. Young boys like you need their sleep."

Harry gave the painting a strange look. He bit his lip, and then figured he might as well do as the painting said. "Good night, Mrs. Black," he said to the portrait as he began to make his way towards the stairs.

After a few moments he could hear her say "Good night, child," in response.

* * *

><p>The next morning Harry woke earlier than his godfather, and for once he decided not to wait for Sirius to wake up. Instead he quickly got out of bed, changed out of his pyjamas into a pair of pants and a white shirt, and then made his way down into the kitchen. Kreacher was already up and Harry could smell breakfast.<p>

"Kreacher," he called out to the elf, a plan forming in his mind, "could I get my breakfast now, before Sirius wakes up?"

The elf gave him a look. "Young Master Harry wants to eat alone?"

Harry's stomach decided to help him out by rumbling, and he smiled sheepishly. "I'm kind of hungry," he admitted, "and Sirius is still sleeping."

Kreacher didn't need more convincing than that, and soon a plate of delicious smelling bacon and eggs and a toast with cheese stood on the table, along with a cup of orange juice.

"Thanks, Kreacher!" Harry said with a wide smile. "I'll go up into the living room, okay?"

Kreacher, who had gotten used to Harry's odd little quirks – the child wanted to do things on his own, for one – simply nodded and went about his work around the kitchen. Soon another hungry person wanting breakfast would arrive, after all, and Kreacher was too proud in his work to accept any slacking off.

Harry walked back up the stairs again. He'd fibbed a bit when he'd said he'd be going to the living room; instead he stopped in front of Walburga's curtains, and then promptly sat down on the floor, putting the plate in his lap.

"Good morning, Mrs. Black," he called out, and the curtains immediately pulled apart.

The woman managed to hide her shock pretty well. "Good morning, child," she greeted, eyeing him curiously. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

He smiled brightly at her. "Thought you might want some company. It seems so lonely being stuck on a wall all day."

Despite herself, Walburga was amused. "I can leave whenever I want," she reminded him.

"Yeah," the child agreed, "but the other portraits around the house doesn't seem to talkative." He should know, he'd tried to talk to all of them. He took a bite of his bacon, relishing in the taste. "Most of them won't even stay around for very long." A thought hit him. "Hey, where is it portraits go when they leave their frames?"

Walburga wasn't as surprised by the child's inquisitiveness as say, Sirius would have been, but she still wasn't all too prepared for it. "Well," she said after a moment, "We can go to other paintings nearby, and we can go to other portraits of ourselves."

The child nodded, soaking up the information as he ate some scrambled eggs. "Can't they go further than that?" he asked through a mouthful of toast.

The woman pursed her lips. "As long as there are adjacent paintings, we can go as far as we wish." She gave him a stern look. "Your table-manners are atrocious, child."

Harry paused for a second. "They're not that bad," he defended himself, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Had anyone else made the comment he would've felt real bad, but for some reason it was okay when Mrs. Black said it. He supposed it was because she was a painting.

"They're bad enough," the woman said with finality in her voice. "Something has to be done about this. Where is that blasted son of mine?"

Harry took another bite of his toast. "He's still sleeping, I think," he offered before taking a sip from his orange juice. Ever since Kreacher had started to overfeed him he had seemed to discover a certain joy in food. It was certainly nice not to have to go hungry, at any rate.

Walburga's eyes narrowed shrewdly. "Wait here," she ordered the child, and then walked out of her frame.

Blinking, Harry supposed he could only do what he'd been told. Besides, he didn't feel like going anywhere at that moment. He could hear Walburga's voice from upstairs, but he couldn't hear what she said. The fact that he even _could_ hear her all the way from upstairs didn't surprise him too much; he'd heard her yell before.

A few minutes later Walburga returned, looking decidedly pleased with herself. Harry was about to ask why, when he suddenly heard someone rush down the stairs. Seconds later Sirius came into view, still wearing his pyjamas. His hair was all over the place, and his eyes were wild.

Harry smiled at his godfather. "Morning, Sirius."

* * *

><p>When Walburga had left her frame, she'd immediately made her way up to a painting of a distant uncle that was in the hallway right outside Sirius' bedroom. With fiendish delight and a wicked smile she opened her mouth.<p>

"SIRIUS ORION BLACK!" she shouted. "YOU GET OUT OF THAT BED RIGHT THIS INSTANT!"

The sound of someone falling out of bed flittered out the door, and Walburga resisted the urge to laugh as she heard her eldest son spring to his feet. Without waiting for him to appear she quickly made her way down to her own painting again, pleased to find that Harry was still waiting there.

Moments later Sirius came crashing down the stairs, and Walburga would cherish the look on his face forever.

Harry greeted his godfather, and the man blinked stupidly for a few seconds. Then he turned angry eyes onto the portrait of his mother.

"You crazy old hag," he muttered angrily at the smug painting as he tried to get his heart to calm back down. "I should blast you right off the wall." His fingers itched for his wand, but it was still upstairs.

Walburga huffed, giving her son a haughty look. "You wouldn't know how to," she taunted, much to Harry's amusement.

The child tried to hide his laughter by stuffing more food into his mouth.

The portrait gave him a disapproving look. "Don't stuff your mouth like that," she chided him sternly. "You look like a commoner."

Harry blinked up at the woman. "But I _am_ a commoner. Aren't I?" He glanced at his godfather, who was looking dumbstruck. Harry certainly didn't think there was anything uncommon about himself.

Before Sirius had time to respond Walburga spoke up again. "You most certainly are _not_," she said indignantly. "You are the grandchild of Dorea Black, my own aunt." She shook her head. "Commoner."

Sirius, who was still sort of creeped out by the whole situation, gave the portrait of his mother a shrewd look. "I thought you disowned her when she and Charlus took me in."

"I did no such thing."

"You disowned Uncle Alphard."

Walburga changed the subject. "You are a child of Black," she told Harry sternly, "and we are no commoners. We are-"

"The most noble and ancient house, yes, yes we know," Sirius interjected with a roll of his eyes. "You still forget that Harry's mother was a muggle-born. You know, the kind of people you want to exterminate?" He wasn't going to let her off the hook so easily.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "I want no such thing," she protested haughtily. "I just think that they have no place in our society."

Harry, who'd been listening with rapt interest, frowned. "But why not?" he asked, before he could stop himself and before Sirius could retort. "Aren't they magical, too?" From what he'd heard his mom had certainly been magical, even though she'd come from a normal family.

They would have continued the conversation, but there was a sudden sound from the living room, and seconds later Cassiopeia came out into the hallway. "Why are you sitting on the floor, Harry?"

He smiled at her. He liked Cassie. "Eating breakfast," he told her honestly, showing his plate of half eaten bacon and scrambled eggs.

She looked decidedly unimpressed and turned to Sirius. "Haven't you taught him how to use a table?"

Sirius held his hands up in defence. "He got up before me," he explained. "Besides, there's nothing wrong with sitting on the floor."

Both Cassiopeia and Walburga gave him equally stern looks. He shrank back, just a little.

"Besides," Harry added, still smiling, "there wasn't any table here, and I wanted to keep Mrs. Black company."

Cassiopeia glanced at the painting. "There are other paintings for her to visit should she feel lonely," she pointed out to the child.

"But they all seem so boring," the child complained. "No one of them will talk, and they're mostly never here, anyway."

Glancing at Sirius, who held his hands up again, Cassie then turned back to the child. She seemed to have troubles containing her laughter. "My mother would have had a seisure had she seen you," she told the boy.

Walburga could only agree. "Grandmother Violetta had the right notion," she said, giving Harry another stern look. "You need to know how to act properly, and most importantly your table-manners need to be improved. _Now_." There was no arguing with that tone, certainly not since the painting snapped her curtains close just to prove her point.

Harry sighed. "Fine," he said, "I'll go to the living room." He picked up his plate and cup, and dejectedly trudged into the living room, leaving a stunned Cassiopeia and Sirius behind.

Cassie shook her head. "One day I'm going to figure out how he does that," she promised.

Sirius glanced at her. "Does what?"

"Oh, don't tell me you haven't noticed. How he completely charms every one in his surrouondings, even someone like Walburga."

"I heard that!" came from the other side of the curtains covering the painting.

It was ignored. "You have a point," Sirius said, stroking his chin. "I don't think even he knows it, though. I half expect him to panic and run away every now and then."

Cassie's eyebrows rose. "He's still frightened?"

"As jumpy as a rabbit," Sirius confirmed. "It's a lot better now, though. I think being with Kreacher helps, even though I can't for my life understand why."

The elderly woman's eyes narrowed in thought. "From what I've gathered, he must have lived like a servant with those... _muggles_." It was still a touchy subject, and very much so. "Perhaps he feels more at ease with someone who he'd consider being on his own level?"

Sirius had to agree the idea had merit. "Could be true, yeah," he admitted. His eyes turned dark. "If I ever get my hands on those heartless bastards..."

Cassiopeia put a hand on his shoulder. "You're not the only one," she assured him, "but now's not the time to go on a crusade." She almost surprised herself with the reasonable advice. "Harry doesn't need you to get sent back to Azkaban."

He calmed down notably at the mention of the prison. "You're right," he sighed. "Still..."

"We can deal with that later. Now, we should join Harry in the living room."

A grin began to tug on Sirius' lips. "'We'?"

"Oh, shut up."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: And here's another chapter. It feels good to be writing again. Also, as the spell-check on the school computers is retardedly boring, Alphard was only corrected to Alp Hard, Dorea to Dora, and Charlus to Charles. I am dissapointed in you, retarded school computer spell-check. I miss my own spell-check.


	22. Sound Advice

**Disclaimer**: I do not own Harry Potter.

* * *

><p>"Hey, Prongslet," Sirius said, glancing over at Harry who sat on the other side of the large dinner table in the kitchen. The child had a half-eaten toast in his hand and seemed to be far off in mind, but when Sirius spoke he looked up at his godfather. "Want to get out of the house today?"<p>

Harry's brows knitted together into a frown. "What do you mean?" A small part of his mind panicked, certain that Sirius was going to throw him out.

"You know, go out and a take a walk or something. Perhaps look in a few stores. We've been cooped up in this blasted house for weeks now, and I thought it'd be nice if we went out for a while." He wasn't lying; being stuck in his old family home, even though it was by his own choice, wasn't exactly a fun thing.

Trying to hide his sigh of relief, Harry nodded. "Sounds good," he said with a small smile, and took another bite of his toast.

Sirius' eyes lit up. "Really?" he said in surprise. "Great." He began to wolf down his food. "How about we leave after breakfast?" he asked between bites.

Harry, remembering how both Cassie and the portrait of Walburga had admonished him for eating sloppily, giggled at the sight of his godfather stuffing his face with food. He nodded in response to Sirius' question, and then hurried to finish his own breakfast. Sirius had been right; they _had_ been stuck inside for quite some time, and even though Harry liked the old house, he realized he wanted to be outside, too.

Once breakfast had been decimated they hurried up the stairs to their rooms, where they dressed in what they deemed reasonably muggle clothing. Sirius even remembered to loot his room for old muggle money he'd kept there as a kid, and he also brought two robes with him when they walked back downstairs. He transfigured the robes into less conspicuous, muggle jackets, and handed the smaller one to Harry. It was a size or two too large, but the child didn't seem to mind. Now fully dressed, the two bade their farewells to Kreacher with promises of at least coming back for supper, and then they were off, out through the front door.

The early morning November air was clear and crisp, and not a cloud could be seen on the sky as the two set off in the direction Sirius remembered led to a shopping district. They walked in a leisurely pace, Harry kicking the piles of fallen leaves on the ground with a large grin on his face.

After twenty minutes of walking they reached a large mall, and as Harry's nose and ears were red from the cold, they decided to get inside. They might as well look in the stores when they were there, after all.

There weren't many other people there, seeing as it was still so early, and the two almost had the entire place to themselves. They strolled around the building, glancing into all the stores. Eventually they reached a book store, and Harry turned to look at his godfather with large, imploring eyes.

"Oh, Sirius," said Harry, who was quite fond of books, "can't we go in there? _Please_?"

Sirius gave him a dubious look. "A book store? Sheesh, Prongslet, you're turning into Moony." He was smiling. "All right, let us look at some books."

The child immediately set off, rushing up and down the aisles, his eyes taking in everything at once. Sirius followed, not nearly as rushed as his godson, a soft smile playing on his lips. He loved seeing Harry so happy. An idea suddenly popped into his head, and he reached into his pocket to count the money he'd managed to find in his room. His smile widened.

"Hey, Prongslet," he called.

Harry appeared in front of him instantly. "Yes?"

"I have a task for you," Sirius told him seriously, putting a hand on the child's shoulder. Harry was paying rapt attention. "I want you," Sirius continued, "to take a good, long search around here and find yourself a book you like. Okay?"

Harry's eyes widened. "You mean it'll be for _me_?"

Sirius gave him a look, still smiling. "Of course it'll be for you. You like reading, right?"

The child nodded quickly, eyes still wide as saucers.

"Then off with you!" Padfoot ordered. "And don't come back here until you have a book you want, savvy?"

His grin threatening to split his face in half, Harry nodded enthusiastically before he instantly sped off again, carefully – and rapidly – looking at ever book he saw.

Sirius shook his head with a smile, and then began to look around for some way to pass the time while Harry browsed through the entire store. His eyes landed upon the cashier, a young woman with light brown hair. She was chewing bubble-gum and smiling at him.

"Cute kid," she said, nodding in Harry's direction. "He yours?" Her eyes trailed up and down his body.

Getting flashbacks from a life he hadn't led for almost eight years, Sirius smiled at the woman. "My godson," he corrected her, feeling exceptionally rusty in the art of speaking to women.

The woman was still smiling. "You get to meet him often?"

"He lives with me." The whole situation was just so absurd to Sirius, and it must've shown, because the woman's smile faded just a bit.

"Sorry," she apologized with a slight grimace. "I can be a bit too forward, I know."

Sirius shook his head. "Don't worry about it," he assured her, perhaps not as smoothly as he would have wished. She seemed to find it smooth enough, though.

Their conversation might have continued, but at that moment Harry chose to reappear. He had a book in his hands.

Moving his attention from the cashier to his godson, Sirius grinned. "What've you got?"

Harry held out the book so Sirius could read the title.

"'The Iliad'?" the man questioned. He'd read a few lines in it ages ago at Lily's insistence, but had quickly given up when he'd realized it hadn't had any pictures in it. He remembered Lily had called him incorrigible. "You sure?"

The child nodded. "I've seen it in the library before," he explained earnestly, "but have never read it."

Sirius shrugged. "Sounds fair enough," he said, patting the child's hair. He turned to the cashier. "We have a winner," he told the woman, putting the book on the counter.

Her eyebrows rose. "Isn't this a bit heavy reading for a pre-schooler?" she asked, purely out of curiosity, as she glanced at Harry.

The child blushed. "I'm not a pre-schooler," he protested. "I'm eight years old!"

The cashier smiled. "My mistake," she apologized. "You look so young, that's all."

Harry huffed, but he accepted the apology nonetheless.

Sirius grinned and took the opportunity to further mess up Harry's hair.

"That'll be six pounds," the cashier told him, and he handed over the money. They both said good bye, and then left the store. Harry was proudly carrying his new book in the plastic bag the cashier had provided them with.

They strolled around the mall for a while longer, entering a few stores here and there. After a while they found a café, and both agreed that they needed to sit down for a while. Using the rest of his money Sirius bought them a cup of hot chocolate each and an apple tart for them to share, and they sat down by one of the small tables.

After finishing their treat they left the café, and a short while later they decided to head back home again.

* * *

><p>Stretching, Remus made his way down to the bar. He'd gotten a nice, full night of sleep of once, and his stomach was reminding him that he hadn't eaten anything since the previous night. It was nearing lunch time, but the place was still quite empty. He ordered some food from Tom, who was standing behind the bar, as always, and then sat down by one of the more secluded tables.<p>

A few moments later Tom brought him his breakfast, and he made himself ready to tug in. Before he had the chance, however, someone spoke to him.

"Remus?"

He looked up to see a tall, dark-haired woman stare at him with surprise in her light brown eyes. A smile spread over his lips.

"Andromeda! What are you doing here?"

The woman smiled. "I was going to grab a quick lunch before going back home. May I join you?"

"Of course." Remus moved over to make room for the woman. He hadn't seen her for several years, but he remembered her as a nice person. She was Sirius favourite cousin, too, but Remus figured that might have had something to do with the fact that Andromeda had never been as fanatical as the rest of her family.

Andromeda quickly ordered herself some lunch from Tom, and a few minutes later she had a plate of hot food placed in front of her. The two of them spent a few moments casually chit-chatting about everything and nothing, and eventually their conversation turned onto the subject of Sirius. Andromeda was the one to bring it up.

"Have you read the newspapers lately?" she asked him casually.

He gave her a knowing look. "Yeah, I've heard about Sirius."

"Have you met him?"

Remus thought back on the nights he'd spent in Grimmauld Place and the days in the Ministry. "Yeah, I've met him."

"How did he seem?" It was obvious she was genuinely concerned about her cousin.

Remus let out a sigh. "Most of the time he seems as fine as ever," he confessed to her, "but it's still so very visible he – that he's been in Azkaban." He only hesitated a split second before saying the last word.

It was Andromeda's turn to sigh. "Who would've thought he could be innocent, huh?" she muttered, picking at her food.

"_I_ should have known." Remus' voice was dark, and he was looking down, glaring at his plate. It was obvious he was blaming himself for not understanding, not seeing.

Andromeda, understanding how the man must feel, gently put her hand over his. "It wasn't your fault, Remus," she told him, knowing it might not do her much good. "We all thought he was guilty."

"But I should have _known_," the man repeated. "I was one of their best friends, damn it." He buried his face in his hands.

The dark haired woman let out another sigh. "They managed to fool all of us," she consoled him, "but it's all in the past, now. There's nothing we can do about it except live our lives. There's nothing stopping you from believing in him now, is there?"

A wan smile spread over the man's lips. "You're right," he admitted, calming himself down. He glanced up at her. "Did you know he's taken over custody over Harry?"

Her eyebrows rose. "The Potters' boy? It's been mentioned in the papers, but I didn't know if it was true."

Remus nodded. "Apparently they ran into each other a few months ago, right after Sirius had escaped. He brought the boy back to Grimmauld Place, and Harry has stayed with him ever since."

Now Andromeda's eyebrows disappeared well up into her hairline. "He lives _there_ of all places?" She remembered how her cousin had loathed his childhood home. "Azkaban must've muddled his brains beyond repair. Soon you'll be telling me the drivel the Prophet writes about the Malfoys helping him out is true, too."

He gave her an amused look.

"Oh, no, Remus, you can't be _serious_."

"I'm not, I'm Remus."

She swatted his arm. "What on earth led him to seek out _their_ help?" From what she remembered her sister and their cousin hadn't exactly been on the best terms. Could have been because of the whole being on different sides in the war thing.

Remus shrugged. "I'm not really sure how it happened," he admitted. "I think Narcissa bullied her husband into it."

That, Andromeda _could_ believe. Malfoy didn't stand a chance against his wife. Still, it didn't explain why they were helping _Sirius_ of all people. There must be something they would gain from it, she was certain, because otherwise they wouldn't even glance in the direction of someone like Sirius, champion of good and ex-prisoner of Azkaban.

She shook her head. "It's a strange world we live in, my friend."

"That it is," Remus agreed, "that it is."

"Do you meet Sirius often?" Andromeda suddenly asked. She was genuinely curious.

He grimaced. "Not lately," he admitted, glancing to the side. "Things have... gotten in the way."

She gave him a shrewd look, seeing right through him. "Things such as..?"

He grimaced again. "There's something you should know," he began, glancing around to make sure no one was listening in, "about Harry."

Andromeda was paying rapt attention, but still had the sense to throw up a few silencing charms to ensure their privacy. She looked at him expectantly.

Remus continued. "Before Sirius found him, he lived with his Aunt – his mother's sister – and Uncle. They're muggles, and, well..." he paused, taking a deep breath. "Let's just say they're not the best example of muggles."

Frowning, Andromeda was beginning to understand what he was hinting at. "Surely you're not saying that..?"

The look he gave her was answer enough. "From what I've gathered, they, uh – they've treated him like a servant."

"You can't be serious?"

The pun passed by unattended this time. "I am dead serious," he said. "There was even a check-up with a healer from St. Mungos, and I've seen the results." He grimaced. "It was bad."

"But surely someone must've checked up on him regularly? He's the bloody boy-who-lived, for crying out loud."

Remus' amber eyes turned dark. "Apparently no one thought to do that." There was a myriad of undercurrents in his voice that Andromeda couldn't quite place.

She frowned at him. "Who could be as stupid and irresponsible as to leave such an important child with muggles and not check-up regularly on him!"

A deep sigh left Remus' lips. "Dumbledore."

It was most definitely not the answer Andromeda had been expecting. "_Dumbledore!_ Are you serious!"

Remus only sighed again.

Andromeda leaned back in her chair. "He must've gone senile," she muttered, still somewhat unable to believe it. "How did Sirius take it?"

"Let's just say it's not so strange he keeps contact with the Malfoys," the man said. "Even the Black elders come over for visits."

Now Andromeda got really surprised. She remembered the elders as stuck-up, dry pureblood fanatics – they'd all been for disowning her when she got married – and she just couldn't see them help Sirius, who'd been disowned well before Andromeda. "You think he's gone dark?" The question had to be asked.

Remus shook his head. "Despite everything, no, no I don't," he confessed. "He's too much of a Gryffindor for that."

Andromeda nodded. "How are you taking the whole thing?" she asked, giving him a concerned look.

It took a few moments before he answered. "To be honest, I – I don't know. I mean, it's just that so much has happened. I really don't know what to think of it all."

Not for the first time Andromeda showed just how insightful she could be. "You don't know what to think about Dumbledore, you mean?"

He sighed. "I'm getting pretty sure about what to think about Albus," he confessed. "It's just..." he trailed off.

"You don't know how to tell Sirius?"

"I spent seven years thinking he had killed my best friends, and when he gets out I didn't believe him when he said Dumbledore was the one responsible for how awful Harry's life has been."

Andromeda gave him a comforting look, smiling softly. "And you don't know how to tell him you're sorry, do you?"

Remus sighed again, as he'd made a habit of doing lately. "How can I just tell him I'm sorry? Sorry doesn't cut it."

"But it's a start."

He glanced up at her.

She was still smiling. "You two have several years of time to make up for," she pointed out, "and telling him how you feel is the best way to start it off, don't you think?"

It was all very reasonable, of course – even Remus could see that. Still... "I don't think it'll be that easy."

"Of course it won't be easy," she told him gently. "It never is."

She was right again, and Remus let out another sigh as he told her so.

She smiled at him. Then, glancing around the room, she brought up her wand and cast a quick tempus charm. "I've got to go," she confessed. "I promised Ted I wouldn't be away for too long."

Remus smiled at her. "Of course," he said. "I've taken up too much of your time already."

"Don't be ridiculous." She rose from the chair, undoing her silencing charms from earlier as she stood up. "Are you staying here?"

"For now, yeah," he confirmed. "Haven't lived in Britain for a few years, so I have no home here right now."

They shared a few more pleasantries, and then Andromeda gave her final farewells with promises of staying in touch. Nodding towards Tom, the woman then made her way over to the apparation point just outside the pub, her mind full of thoughts. She knew she, too should follow the advice she'd given to Remus.

Remus paid for his meal, and after a quick mental debate he hurried back up to his room before he could change his mind. He pulled out a piece of parchment and a pen, and scribbled down a quick note. He folded it neatly and wrote the name of the intended receiver on it, and then went back to the bar. He asked Tom if there were any owls he could borrow, and Tom agreed to lend him a large, old barn owl with only one eye. Remus tied the note to the owl's leg, and then watched it fly away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Whoo, I'm on a roll! This chapter was actually supposed to consist of four scenes. I had them planned out and everything, but then the first two scenes just sort of demanded attention and place and it ended with Wolfman and Dromedary having a several page long talk. I don't mind.


	23. Friendship

**Disclaimer**: Nope, I still don't own it.

* * *

><p>Once back at Grimmauld Place 12, Harry and Sirius enjoyed the lunch Kreacher insisted they eat. They sat, as they often did, in the living room, Sirius sprawled out over the couch and Harry curled up in his usual chair. The purchase of the day lay proudly on the coffee table.<p>

When they were almost done with their lunch, the fireplace flared up and Cassiopeia stepped out into the living room. She gave the two a look.

"I see you're here now."

Sirius swallowed the bite of food he'd just taken. "Yeah," he agreed. "Were you here earlier?"

She nodded. "I came by a few hours ago, but then no one but your house elf were here."

"We were out," Sirius explained. "Needed to get out of the house for a bit."

Cassie delicately let the subject drop – for now. She turned to Harry. "How has your day been?" She absentmindedly handed her robe to Kreacher, who disappeared as quickly as he'd appeared, robe in tow. The elderly woman took a seat beside her Great-nephew.

Harry smiled at her. "Great," he told her. "Sirius bought me a book."

Cassie's eyebrows rose. "That sounds wonderful," she told him before turning to Sirius. "You didn't think the Black library would suffice in choices for reading material?"

He grinned. "Not in muggle books, no," he told her cheekily.

The woman huffed. "Of course," she muttered. "I'm surprised you even knew how to find one."

Sirius let that one slide. "What brings you here today, dearest Great-aunt?" he said with a mockingly sweet voice.

She sent a weak stinging hex his way. "Can't a woman spend some time with her nephews without getting accused?"

"I didn't accuse you of anything."

"You were thinking it."

Sirius dodged another hex.

They would have continued, but then the fire-place flared up again and the head of Narcissa appeared in the flames. A wisp of smoke escaped her mouth as she spoke.

"Sirius, Cassiopeia," she greeted with a nod and then turned to Harry. "Good day, Harry."

The child smiled at the flames. "Hello, Aunt Narcissa." He'd taken to call the woman Aunt, and she had no intentions of telling him not to.

Sirius, who was still sending his Great-aunt suspicious glances, ready to dodge should she strike again, turned to the head of Narcissa. "Greetings, cousin," he said, and, as he'd expected, dodged another one of Cassie's hexes.

Narcissa shook her head at them, tiny flames dancing in her hair. "Draco has been begging to come back here," she confessed to the trio, sending a special smile Harry's way.

Harry was quick to react. "Oh, can't he come over, Padfoot? Please?"

Sirius, of course, didn't stand a chance against those eyes. Not that he'd had much mind to disagree, anyway; it was good for his godson to spend some time with kids his own age, even though they be Malfoys. He told Narcissa as much, and moments later the blonde and her son stepped out of the fire-place.

Narcissa and Cassiopeia kissed each others' cheeks in greeting as Harry and Draco grinned at each other, immediately beginning to tell each other everything about what had happened since they'd last parted.

As Narcissa took one of the empty arm-chairs, Sirius ordered some tea from Kreacher, who was all too happy to oblige.

Meanwhile, Harry was busy telling Draco all about the little trip he and Sirius had had out into the world outside, and of the subsequent visit to the bookstore. He happily showed off the newest addition to the Black library.

Cassie, who'd half listened to the boy's conversation, turned a raised eyebrow onto Sirius. "I see you've gotten him interested in books," she commented off-handedly.

The man scoffed. "He didn't need any help with that," he assured his Great-aunt. "Practically begged me to go into the store."

The old woman only let out an "Oh," in response, but seemed quite pleased with the turn of events.

Narcissa watched her cousin and Great-aunt with interest. "Which book was it?" she asked, having been unable to see the cover of it as Harry showed it off to his blonde friend.

"The Iliad, of all things," Sirius said with a grimace that told them he couldn't for his life understand the child's choice.

The two witches, who were unfamiliar with the muggle story, glanced at each other with furrowed brows. Of course it would be a muggle book; the two _had_ been to a muggle book-store, after all.

"And what is it about?" Narcissa politely inquired, calmly sipping the tea Kreacher had brought her.

Sirius shrugged. "Some old muggle war," he confessed. "A few greek gods were involved, too, if I remember correctly."

Cassie glanced at Narcissa again. "You have read this book?"

A sheepish grin spread over the gaunt ex-convicts lips. "I tried to, once," he confessed. "Lily made me, but I never finished it. Wasn't nearly enough pictures in it."

Cassiopeia rolled her eyes. "Of course not," she replied tartly, sipping her tea.

"Padfoot?"

Sirius glanced to his side to see Harry standing there, flanked by Draco. Both had their large, innocent eyes – one pair pale silver, the other startling green – fixed on him. Sirius suspected mischief. "What is it, Prongslet?"

The child shifted his feet. "Me and Draco were wondering if – if you could read a bit for us. From the book, I mean." His eyes were impossibly huge. "Please?"

Very well aware that he was being manipulated into it by those eyes of Harry's, Sirius gave in. "Fine, you little rascal," he said, messing the boy's hair up with a grin. "Let's go down into the kitchen so we don't disturb the fine ladies and their tea, shall we?"

Laughing, he hurried out of the room, dodging one of Cassie's hexes as he went, closely followed by the two boys.

Narcissa shook her head. "Lucius would have a heart-attack if he knew Draco was listening to muggle stories," she confessed, taking another sip from her tea.

Cassie snorted. "Your husband would have a heart-attack if a muggle so much as breathed on him," she pointed out.

"Don't be like that," Narcissa chided. "He'd simply insist on burning his robes and scourgifying himself a few times should that happen."

The elder woman snorted again. "You seem a lot more lenient than your husband in this matter," she pointed out casually.

Narcissa frowned. "Perhaps I am."

Cassiopeia didn't need to ask further to know that it was, of course, because of Harry. The child had a habit of affecting everyone in his surroundings, changing them. Whether this was for better or worse, neither of the two witches knew – only time would tell that. The rest of their conversation kept to lighter topics.

* * *

><p>Down in the kitchen Sirius was reading from the book to the two eager boys. He had their full, wide-eyed attention as the Trojans and their adversaries the Argives lined up their armies. The language in the book was old and archaic, but Sirius could read without too many interruption, and he soon found himself drawn into the story. After two chapters, however, he closed the book again, much to the childrens' disappointed groans.<p>

"We'll read more tomorrow," the man promised them, and they were soon off again, resuming their earlier game of exploration through the old house as Sirius made his way up to the living room again, where he joined the two women.

Narcissa raised her eyebrows as he came in. The sound of the boys rushing up the stairs could be heard from the hallway. "Done so soon?"

He shrugged. "It's a bit too old-fashioned for them to be able to pay attention for too long," he said in an surprising show of insight. "Better they wreak some havoc instead."

The blonde woman pursed her lips, but remained quiet.

* * *

><p>Upstairs the boys were busy examining every nook and cranny of every room they entered, hoping they might find some hidden treasures. One of the doors on the third floor, however, was closed and locked.<p>

"It's the library," Harry told his friend solemnly. "Sirius says I'm not allowed to go in there without him."

Draco looked curious. He thought of the library he had at home, and of the parts his father had forbidden him to go to. "Have you ever been in there?" he asked.

Harry shook his head. "I don't think Sirius likes book that much," he confessed as they began to go to the next room, which turned out to be another spare bedroom. "They're too bookish."

The blonde nodded, understanding perfectly what his friend meant. "My father likes books," he confided in the raven haired child. "Mother likes them too, but not as much as father. He has lots of them in his study."

The children continued their exploration, pretending to be great adventures out exploring dangerous new lands. Draco didn't know much about the muggle game, but the proved to have enough imagination to make it interesting as he added magical beasts, some which Harry had never heard of before.

* * *

><p>Afternoon slowly but surely made its way towards dinnertime, and it was two reluctant boys that beckoned the grown-ups call, both knowing that it was time for Draco to head back home.<p>

Narcissa smiled gently at the two sullen boys. "Don't look so down," she admonished them. "There will be plenty of time for more play tomorrow, won't there?" She sent the last two words Sirius' way, accompanied by her raised eyebrows.

"Of course," the man was quick to agree, smiling as the boys lit up like candles. "When'll you be here?"

The blonde woman thought for a second. "How about we come over for lunch?" she asked.

Sirius had no objections to that, and the only objection Harry had was that he was going to have to wait _all_ the time till lunch before Draco came back again.

The two blondes soon flooed their way back home, and Cassie followed shortly after – though only after promising Harry that'd she'd be back soon, too.

Harry and Sirius shared a quiet but merry dinner in the living room, and a few hours later the two of them went off to bed. Harry, feeling quite tired, had no objections to that, and almost eagerly climbed into his bed and in under the covers.

"Good night, Padfoot," he told his godfather, who was gently tucking him in.

"Good night, Prongslet," Sirius responded, and then went into his own room, fully intent on getting some sleep.

* * *

><p>The next morning passed by quickly – even though Harry thought time was taking its sweet time – and when lunch arrived the boy was eagerly waiting in the living room. For the first time in his life he had a friend who was all his own – and a friend he'd be allowed to keep, too – and he wished they would arrive sooner.<p>

When they did arrive, Draco was quick to join Harry in rushing away to explore, barely having time to get out a quick greeting to Sirius.

Narcissa pursed her lips at the action, but Sirius shook his head. "Let them be boys, 'Cissa," he said with a smile. "They'll be back down soon, anyway, when lunch is served."

As Sirius had predicted, just a few minutes before Kreacher announced that lunch was served, the two boys came back down the stairs, talking excitedly to each other. They barely had enough time to sit down in the living room before the house elf appeared.

"Lunch is served, Master Sirius Sir," the elf said with a bow. Sirius suspected it was more for Narcissa than anything.

The four of them went down into the kitchen, each taking a seat round the large table. Lunch was a pleasant affair, and soon the boys had devoured their food and were, after politely asking for permission, off to explore around the house. The grown-ups stayed in the kitchen for a while longer, calmly chatting and discussing.

Now that Harry wasn't in the room, Cassiopeia took the opportunity to discuss something she'd been meaning to. She would have liked for Pollux and Arcturus to be present, but she figured she'd have to include them some other time.

She was calmly sipping her after lunch tea, fixing her Great-nephew with a hard gaze. "What are you going to do about the Harry's muggle guardians?"

Sirius' eyes immediately turned dark. "Forget they exist," he told her honestly. He knew that if he would meet them he might not be able to control himself.

The elderly woman shook her head. "You can't," she told him brusquely. "Technically they are still Harry's guardians.

"I'm not letting Harry move back there." Sirius was adamant, refusing to give in on that particular point.

"And you shouldn't," Narcissa cut in, knowing where the conversation was headed. "Nor are we asking you to." She shared a glance with Cassiopeia, and the woman nodded her consent in letting the blonde take over. "I have already spoken with Lucius," she confessed, looking at Sirius, "and he's agreed to take care of the matter."

Sirius snorted. "You mean his lawyers are going to take care of it."

The blonde rolled her eyes. "Does it really matter?"

Looking away, Sirius let out a sigh. "How long is it going to take?"

"At least a few days," Narcissa told him. "Then you will be Harry's legal guardian."

The conversation would have continued, but at that moment they heard the sound of two pairs of feet coming down the staircase to the kitchen. Seconds later the boys came into the room, both smiling. Harry was holding his new book, _The Iliad_, in his hands.

"Padfoot?" he asked his godfather, almost hesitantly. "Could you read another chapter for me and Draco?"

Sirius smiled at the sight. Eager to get away from his cousin and great-aunt, he rose from his chair. "Of course," he told the boys. "The living room is a good place for it, don't you think?"

The boys heartily agreed and soon the three of them were upstairs. Sirius sat down in the couch, and both Harry and Draco climbed up into Harry's usual chair. A few moments later Cassiopeia and Narcissa joined them.

When Sirius had read one chapter, the fire-place suddenly flared up, and they all looked up to see none other than Remus walk out into the living room. He was looking more ragged than usual, and he had dark circles under his eyes. He looked surprised to see such a crowd, and Sirius could easily recognize the flicker of guilt that passed by the werewolf's eyes as he glanced in Harry's direction. Sirius had always been good at reading Remus.

Narcissa was also good at reading people. Her eyes narrowing, she shared a quick look with Cassiopeia before turning to the boys.

"Harry," she said, gaining their attention, "why don't you and Draco show me and Aunt Cassie your room? It is Regulus old room, isn't it?"

They boy cast a hesitant look in his godfather's direction, sensing the man's mood. His eyes flickered over to Remus for a short moment, and for a second his brows furrowed into a small frown. Narcissa resisted the urge to smile. Harry was not quite yet an expert at hiding his emotions.

"Okay," the child said placidly, and he and Draco rose from their seat in the arm-chair. Accompanied by the two women they made their way out into the hallway. Draco, who was feeling out of the loop, glanced first at Harry, and then at his mother's cousin and that friend of his. Something was going on, he just knew it.

* * *

><p>Remus couldn't quite decide if he was relieved Narcissa took the kids upstairs, or if it just made him more nervous. Sirius was still sitting on the couch, and he was watching Remus with a guarded look.<p>

Letting out a deep sigh, he drew his hand through his messy hair. He just didn't know what to say. "Look," he began, but as he couldn't come up with anything more than that he closed his mouth again. Why did this have to be so hard? "About Dumbledore..." he tried again.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "Merlin's pants, Remus, just get it out, will you?" Patience had never been a virtue Sirius valued highly.

"I'm sorry." Sirius' little outburst had been enough to untie Remus' tongue. "For doubting you, for not being able to question Dumbledore. For everything."

This time it was Sirius who sighed. He slowly rose from the couch and approached Remus so that they were standing face to face. No trace of any sort of smile could be found on his face, only a closed off coldness Remus knew came from Azkaban.

"What made you change your mind?"

Remus let out a small chuckle. "Narcissa," he admitted. "She showed me the result of Harry's... check-up." He couldn't keep the grimace off his face.

Sirius' eyes narrowed for a split second, and then, ever so slowly, a smile began to form on his lips. "I will never understand that woman," he admitted. He held out his hand towards his childhood friend. "Welcome back."

Remus didn't need any second thoughts. He eagerly grasped Sirius' hand. "It's good to be back."

* * *

><p>Upstairs, Harry was giving his aunts a grand tour of his room. There wasn't much to show. His bed was made, thanks to Kreacher, and the room was dust-free, but it was also kind of... empty. Harry had no belongings of his own - apart from his new book - so everything in the room was either things Kreacher had dug out for him, or Regulus old things, and the only thing Sirius' brother had really left behind in the room were the books in the bookcase.<p>

Cassiopeia let her eyes sweep over the room with a disparaging look in her eyes. Taking in the almost Spartan environment, combined with the knowledge that Harry only had hand-me-down clothes, she quickly made up her mind. Nodding to Narcissa, the two women stepped just outside the door for a second.

"We need to do something," the old woman confided in her Great-niece.

Narcissa nodded. "I know," she agreed. "He can't live like that. I won't stand for it."

Cassiopeia could only agree.

* * *

><p>Back in the room Harry and Draco were sitting on the bed in silence. Harry's expression was unusually sombre, and Draco didn't quite know what to say. He knew it had something to do with the man downstairs, but he couldn't quite put his finger on why.<p>

"Are - are you okay?"

Harry sighed. "Yeah," he said listlessly. "Or, well - I don't know."

Draco frowned. "Who is he?" He didn't need to specify.

"An old friend of Padfoot's," Harry explained. "He - he knew my parents, too, when they were in school."

Realizing that his friend didn't seem to want to talk about it, Draco let the subject drop, despite all the questions flying through his mind. Still, he didn't like seeing his friend so sad, and desperately tried to come up with a way to cheer him up without talking. Then, acting on an impulse, he did something his mother did to him when he was feeling sad; he pulled Harry into a hug.

The raven-haired boy stiffened up at first, and Draco thought he'd get angry, but then Harry relaxed into the embrace, letting his head fall down on Draco's shoulder.

* * *

><p>Narcissa reached for the door, intent on going back into the room, but was stopped by Cassiopeia who laid a hand on the younger woman's arm. The elderly witch nodded at the two boys sitting on the bed, a small smile on her face.<p>

"Let them have their moment," she whispered in a display of uncharacteristic gentleness.

The blonde hadn't even noticed the boys until her Great-aunt pointed them out to her, and when she finally did lay eyes on them her heart melted in her chest. Draco was going to get so many presents for this.

The two ladies waited for the boys to finish their tender moment, and once they weren't hugging any longer they entered the room.

"How about we go back down again?" Narcissa asked the boys. She couldn't keep a small smile off of her face. "I think Sirius and Remus would be finished by now, don't you?"

The boys' response was unusually sombre and quiet, but Narcissa supposed it was only to be expected.

"Harry," she continued, getting the raven-haired child's attention.

He looked up at her with his brilliant green eyes. "What is it, Mrs. Malfoy?"

She smiled. "Call me Aunt Narcissa, dear. Do you know if you and Sirius have anything planned for tomorrow?"

The child blinked. "I don't think so," he answered slowly, trying to remember if Sirius had said anything. "Why do you ask, Mrs. - Aunt Narcissa?"

Narcissa gave him a mischievous look. "Because tomorrow we're all going to Diagon Alley."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Aaand here's another chapter. Apparently "flooed" should be "fooled", which means Cissa and Draco fooled their way home. I'm not sure I want to know what that entails, exactly. And a trip to Diagon Alley is coming up! Oh, the excitement.


	24. Diagon Alley

**Disclaimer**: I don't own this, I promise.

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><p>The day for their trip had, in Harry's opinion, taken forever to arrive, but now it was finally there. There had been quite a lot of planning involved, most of it organized by Narcissa and Cassiopeia. Both women had insisted on going with them, of course; Narcissa because she thought it would be great for Harry and Draco to get a chance to socialize out of the house, Cassiopeia because she wanted to make sure her great-nephew stayed out of trouble, and both because neither of them trusted Sirius to get what Harry needed. As much as the man cared for his godson, he was completely clueless to what a growing boy would need.<p>

Lucius had wanted to go with them, but he was quickly voted down by the two women in charge, who both agreed that letting people see Sirius associate with a known former death eater would be pushing their luck. Sure, he'd been proven innocent, but that didn't mean people had changed their opinion of him just yet, and it would be bad enough that he was going to be seen with people from the Black family.

As for Harry's reputation, all the grownups involved in the planning decided that it would be better for the child to be surrounded by adults he trusted, rather than for him to go with someone the 'light' would approve of. It wasn't as if they were going to let him out of their sight, anyway.

Sirius had also insisted that Remus joined them. Narcissa was still a bit sceptical to the rugged man, but she didn't feel like arguing with her cousin over it. Both Pollux and Arcturus quickly decided that they should not join in the actual shopping trip, but that they'd arrive later so that they all could eat lunch together in the Leaky Cauldron.

To say that Harry was nervous would be an understatement. He was also very, very excited; apart from Grimmauld Place 12 and the elder Blacks' homes he'd never been anywhere magical, and now he was going to a place that was so magical muggles didn't even know it existed. Not that people knew about Grimmauld Place, either, but it wasn't the same.

Of course, Draco had been glad to fill Harry in with all the details. Now that the boys knew each other a lot of their initial shyness had disappeared, and Draco had no objections to filling Harry in with everything important to know about Diagon Alley.

"We _have_ to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies," the blond said eagerly, his eyes alight with excitement. "They've released the Nimbus 1500 and I simply _must_ have it."

Harry gave his friend a confused look, not understanding a word of what the boy was saying. "Quidditch?" he echoed, the strange word rolling off his tongue.

Draco gave him a shocked look. He'd known Harry had led a tough life, but he'd never imagined it had been this bad. "You don't know what quidditch is?" he said incredulously, just wanting to make sure.

The black-haired boy blushed, hanging his head.

This simply couldn't do. Setting out to right the wrongs of the world, Draco proceeded to inform Harry of everything about the fine art that was quidditch, explaining to his best friend about the seven players, their different tasks, as well as the rules and the many games Draco himself had been to.

"So it's a bit like football?" Harry asked, and this time it was Draco who looked confused.

"What's 'football'?"

They shared a laugh at the whole situation. "It's a muggle sport," Harry explained, and then they dropped the subject.

Draco told Harry about a few more of the shops in Diagon Alley, and then it was time to leave.

* * *

><p>The living room of Grimmauld place was unusually crowded. Harry and Draco were standing right by the fire place, both very eager to go, practically bouncing up and down in their excitement. Cassiopeia and Narcissa were discussing where they should head first, and Sirius and Remus were still sitting in the couch.<p>

"_Mother_," Draco complained. "How long are we going to wait?"

Narcissa gave her son a stern look. "Don't whine, Draco," she scolded him. "It's unbecoming of a Malfoy."

Sirius snorted. "Go easy on the kid, 'Cissa," he told his cousin. "Of course they're eager to be away."

The blonde gave him a cold look, but refrained from commenting. Instead, she turned to Cassiopeia. "Are we ready to leave?"

The elderly woman smiled, giving the impatient boys a look. "I think we'd better leave before the boys do something drastic."

Narcissa seemed to find the mere insinuation that her darling boy would do something _drastic _quite insulting, but she held her tongue.

Sirius and Remus finally rose from the couch. After a few seconds of discussion they decided that Harry and Sirius would take the floo together, as would Narcissa and Draco. Remus and Cassiopeia would go by themselves, and it was decided that Cassie would go first. Once the woman had disappeared in a flash of green, Remus followed her. Narcissa and Draco were next, and soon only Harry and Sirius remained in the Grimmauld Place living room.

Sirius gave his godson a look. "You okay there, Prongslet?"

Harry slid his small hand into Sirius larger one. "Yeah," he said, but it wasn't the entire truth, of course. He was quite nervous, and he could feel his heart hammering against his chest.

Giving the child's hand a comforting squeeze, Sirius lead them towards the fire-place. He grabbed a pinch of floo-powder, and the two shared a look before he threw it into the fire. They stepped into the green flames, and with a clear voice Sirius said, "Diagon Alley."

* * *

><p>Harry didn't like traveling by floo. The spinning made him feel sick, and he always managed to stumble when he arrived at his destination. This time Sirius' hold on his hand stopped him from toppling over, which he was grateful for. He wasn't <em>that<em> fond of falling on his face.

Looking up, Harry saw that he was in a dimly lit room which looked as if it had seen better days. People were scattered around by the many tables, and behind the bar stood a bald man, peering at them curiously.

Cassiopeia and the others were waiting for them, and the elderly woman let her eyes sweep over the room, her mouth pursed in distaste as people began to notice their arrival. Her look softened, if only marginally, when she turned to Harry, who was holding on to Sirius arm, his eyes wide with wonder.

Narcissa, who had also noticed that they were beginning to attract too much attention, smiled somewhat stiffly at her company. "Let us be off," she said, glancing around, "before someone thinks to speak to us." She would have hoped that her status as a Malfoy, as well as Cassiopeia being a respectable Black, would discourage people from bothering them, but it seemed as if curiosity was going to win over politeness. Wasting no time she led the group to the entrance to Diagon Alley, and she quickly tapped the appropriate bricks.

"Watch closely," Sirius said to Harry, watching the boy's reaction from the corner of his eyes. A grin was forming on his face.

Harry watched, amazed, as the seemingly solid brick wall suddenly began to shift, the bricks moving away to form a sturdy arch, wide enough to fit all of them through. Beyond the arch he saw a winding, cobbled street with shops cramped closely on each side. People in dark robes flittered about on the streets, haggling with a merchant here, discussing things with friends there.

He had never seen anything so amazing in his entire life - except maybe Grimmauld Place - and he turned to his godfather, a smile lighting up his entire face. "We're going _there_?" he asked, still not quite able to believe it could be true. Sirius just grinned.

Draco, who, although he'd been to Diagon Alley many times before, didn't go this way that often, was just as amazed as Harry by the archway and the revealed street, and it didn't take long before he had begun to drag his mother and Harry down the cobbled street, excitedly telling Harry about Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Ignoring the boys' excitement, Narcissa was quick to immediately guide the little group to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions, quite intent on getting the boys measured and fitted before letting them loose on the rest of Diagon Alley.

The squat little witch that was Madam Malkin hid her surprise at getting such illustrious guests well, and after taking Narcissa's order - three pairs of trousers each, six shirts for Harry, three for Draco, as well as proper outdoor robes for Harry, who didn't have any - the witch quickly fitted the boys. After a quick discussion with Narcissa about which materials to use, Madam Malkin told them that she would have the clothes ready within an hour.

Harry and Draco, who hadn't stopped talking even when Madam Malkin's measuring tape flittered around them, happily led the group out of the shop. Draco was just about to lead his friend to, in his opinion, the best shop in the entire Alley - Quality Quidditch Supplies - when Harry happened to glance in a different direction. His eyes widened just a fraction.

Remus was quick to see what had caught Harry's eyes. He smiled. "How about we head to Flourish and Blotts?" he suggested, winking at Harry.

"Oh, can we, please?" Harry pleaded, turning brilliant green eyes towards his godfather.

Sirius shook his head, giving Remus a mock accusing look. "You've corrupted him," he said, but he was grinning. "Well, what are we waiting for?" he told the hopeful boy. "Let us go and get educated."

Cassiopeia snorted.

The bookstore was wonderful. The walls were lined with books of all kinds, and Harry had a hard time stopping himself from drifting away from the rest of the group as he walked up and down the aisles of the store. Draco had made an attempt to join him at first, but the blond soon got bored with simply staring at the many books and went on to pester his mother about Quality Quidditch Supplies.

Remus and Sirius kept a close eye on the dark-haired boy, neither of them interested in having the child getting lost in a book store.

"He reminds me of Lily," Remus pointed out with a fond smile as Harry tentatively reached out to touch the backs of the books. "She could spend hours in the Library at Hogwarts."

Sirius let out a chuckle. "Yeah, you and Lils were always quite the bookworms," he teased his friend. His smile, however, wavered just a fraction. "He resembles Lily a lot, doesn't he?"

"Not in looks," Remus pointed out, giving his friend a reassuring smile. He knew what Sirius seemed worried about; that Harry wouldn't be anything like James. "And I think there's more to Harry than what we've seen so far."

Although he didn't seem entirely convinced, Sirius couldn't help but agree. He had a feeling there was a lot more to his godson than anyone could have ever guessed.

* * *

><p>They didn't leave Flourish and Blotts empty-handed. Cassiopeia bought a potions book she was sure Pollux didn't own yet, and Remus insisted on buying Harry two books he thought the child would enjoy; <em>The Tales of Beedle the Bard<em> and _Quidditch Through the Ages_. Wide-eyed at receiving such a wonderful gift, Harry was thanking the ragged man over and over as they left the book-store. While he seemed a bit embarrassed, there was no doubt that Remus enjoyed making the child happy.

Sirius, who knew that his old friend had it rather tight in the financial situation, made a mental note to insist Remus stay at Grimmauld Place often. Having known the man for quite some time, he knew that Remus would never accept money in return for his kindness. Instead, Sirius planned to keep him at Grimmauld Place, making sure Kreacher fed him like he fed Harry. Forcing free food in the disguise of friendly dinners onto his friends was an excellent plan, in Sirius' opinion.

Deciding that it was time for a small break, the group made their way to Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour, and while neither Narcissa or Cassiopeia often frequented such places, they both smiled at the boys' excitement at the many flavours to choose from. Harry had to be reassured twice that it was quite all right for him to choose whatever he wanted, but in the end he still settled for a simple bowl of vanilla ice-cream. Draco chose a butterscotch sundae, licking his lips in anticipation as they chose a table large enough to fit all of them. Sirius, grinning like a fox, ordered a gigantic banana split he knew he'd never be able to finish on his own - not that he wouldn't try, mind you. The other grown-ups simply ordered cups of tea, and as Florean Fortescue himself came with their orders, Sirius was quick to ask for a second spoon for his ice-cream mountain. Before the man could protest, Sirius had given the spoon to Remus, giving him a look that dared him to say no.

Harry was convinced that this was the most delicious ice-cream he'd ever eaten. Not that he'd eaten many, of course, considering the Dursley's view on him. His face dropped a bit when he thought of his Aunt and Uncle, but he quickly pushed those thoughts away. Here he was, in a magical alley with people who actually seemed to care for him, and he'd even gotten two books. He was not going to ruin it by thinking of something as awful as Dudley.

Thinking that Harry must feel left out, being the only one with such a boring treat, Draco smiled at his friend, offering the dark-haired boy a taste of his butterscotch sundae. Harry's smile lit up the entire table, and he had to make sure it was _really_ okay before agreeing to taste the delicious looking treat.

Remus had reluctantly given in to Sirius insistence to share the banana split, and had to, despite himself, admit that it was delicious. Narcissa and Cassie sipped their tea, smiling at the boys as they kept a light conversation.

The boys finished off their ice-creams quickly, and being too impatient to wait for Remus and Sirius to finish theirs, they brought up Harry's books, excitedly leafing through them. Harry handled them as if they were the greatest treasures in the entire world.

Sipping her tea, Narcissa was suddenly struck with a thought. She turned to Sirius. "Sirius, where's your wand?"

The man's grin was almost sheepish. "Don't have one at the moment."

Both Narcissa and Cassiopeia looked absolutely appalled. "_No wand_?" the elderly witch said, shock lining her voice.

He shrugged. "Well, I don't have my _own_ wand..." he trailed off, his eyes shifting to the side.

Narcissa, understanding exactly what he was insinuating, gave him a serious look. "You should go to Ollivander's," she told him. "Now that you are, after all, a free man, it will not do for you to use a _borrowed_ wand." The way she said the words made it seem as if they tasted foul.

Sighing, the man scratched the back of his neck. "I suppose you're right," he muttered.

Harry gave him a curious look. "Ollivander's?" he echoed, looking at his godfather.

"It's the best place in Diagon Alley to buy wands," Remus explained, also looking at Sirius. "You should've said something," he half accused. He would have wanted to help out.

Sirius rolled his eyes. "It's not _that_ big a deal," he defended himself, but the combined looks of Cassie and 'Cissa was enough to convince him. "Fine, fine," he gave in. "I'll go get me a blasted wand." He rose from his seat. "Harry, you coming with me?"

The boy was out of his seat and next to his godfather in the blink of an eye.

Narcissa, her lips pursed, leaned back in her seat. "Draco and I will stay here," she said, ignoring the protests of her son. "We don't all need to invade that tiny little shop."

Remus smiled. "I'll stay here, too," he said.

Cassiopeia looked as stubborn as a mule. "I am coming with you," she said in a tone that suggested that anyone who dared to stop her would be hexed to the next millennium.

Sirius just rolled his eyes again, and the trio set off towards Ollivander's Wand Shop.

"What happened to your old wand?" Harry asked curiously as they walked down the cobbled street.

"They confiscated it when I got sent to Azkaban," he said, eyes lost in memories. "It was such a nice wand, too. Ebony, with a core of dragon heartstring. 15'' and slightly springy. I miss it."

Cassiopeia scoffed. "There's no need for such sentimental reminiscence," she sneered. "You'll get a perfectly fine new wand."

"Of course," Sirius agreed, "but it won't be my old one."

* * *

><p>The shop they entered was small and dusty, and the walls were lined with thin, rectangular boxes. Harry shuffled closer to Cassiopeia, feeling unsure about the gloomy place. Moments after they'd walked in a grey-haired man with pale eyes appeared. He immediately fixed a pale stare on Sirius.<p>

"Sirius Black," he greeted. "Ebony, with a core of dragon heartstring, wasn't it? 15'' and slightly springy. An excellent wand for spell-work." Before Sirius had a chance to return the greeting, the man turned to Cassiopeia. "Madam Black," he said politely. Her wand had been sold before his time.

The man who Harry assumed was Mr. Ollivander turned to Harry, a small frown on his face. "And Harry Potter, the boy who lived. I dare say you are a little young to get a wand, aren't you?"

Saving Harry from having to speak, Sirius cleared his throat. "It's me who need a wand," he explained, somewhat sheepishly. "They took my old one when I was arrested."

"And you haven't gotten it back?" Mr. Ollivander's eyebrows were raised.

Sirius shrugged. "I don't even think they still have it," he confessed.

There wasn't much more conversation after that. Mr. Ollivander quickly measured Sirius' arm, as well as his height, the width of his shoulders and the space between his nostrils, and then set off into the store, intent on finding the right wand for Sirius.

It took a few tries, and one wand promptly jumped out of Sirius hand when he tried to grasp it, but finally Ollivander seemed to find a good match.

"Here," the pale-eyed man said, holding out a thin box. "14'', dogwood, with a core of dragon heartstring. It is slightly yielding."

Sirius had to grimace at the choice of wood, and even Cassiopeia cracked a smile. Still, as he grasped the wand he felt a wondrous sensation surge through his body.

Ollivander smiled. "I do believe we have found ourselves a match," he said.

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: I am alive! Sorry about the ridiculously long delay between this chapter and the last one; life punched me in the face with awesomeness, and then school spiked my drink and date-raped me. But I survived. I survived, and I come bearing chapters! Spell check adds nothing new in this one, but it still cracks me up that Cassie is corrected into Lassie. Oh the giggles.


	25. Owlery

**Disclaimer**: I own a copy of the first book in Latin. Surely the rest of it must be mine, too.

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><p>Back at Fortescue's Narcissa and Remus were both impressed by Sirius wand, and unable to stop himself, Remus laughed out loud when Sirius revealed the wood was dogwood. Sirius gave him a dark look that promised much pain in form of pranks.<p>

Narcissa, who'd been listening to her son's complaining ever since the trio left to buy the wand, sighed. "How about we go to Quality Quidditch Supplies now?"

Draco, Harry and Sirius cheered. Cassiopeia rolled her eyes, Remus chuckled, and soon the group set off for the store Draco hadn't been able to shut up about.

Harry was really excited - he'd leafed through _Quidditch Through the Ages_ and what he'd seen had seemed really interesting. He wondered if he'd ever get to try to fly on a broom himself one day. The image of him soaring through the skies on a broomstick was running through his mind.

Draco was talking quite fast, explaining everything they saw to Harry as well as managing to tell his friend exactly what he wanted his mother to buy for him, and in which colour. It didn't take long for the blond boy to clutch to his mother's side, begging her to buy him a new broomstick.

Still unable to shake the thought of flying, Harry wandered around the store with wide eyes. Sirius was walking beside him, smiling at his godson.

"Your dad used to play quidditch, you know," he pointed out as Harry inspected a set of arm-guards made out of dragon hide. He nodded at Harry's surprised look. "Played a chaser in Gryffindor's house team. He was damn good at it, too."

Harry didn't say anything in response, but he was smiling. He knew so very little about his parents, and this tidbit of information sent a small wave of happiness through him.

Sirius smiled at his godson, ruffling his hair. "I'll go and have a quick word with 'Cissa, okay? Don't get lost in here."

Harry, of course, barely heard him; he was far too busy imagining himself on a broom, soaring through the skies. Draco would be there, too, of course, and together they'd fly around the world. It was a very nice image.

* * *

><p>Narcissa was standing by the front of the shop, still being pestered by her darling son about broomsticks. She did a marvellous job of ignoring him, too, having a small conversation with Cassiopeia.<p>

Sirius caught Draco's attention, winked at him, and then turned to 'Cissa. "I'm going to buy the boys brooms. "

Draco cheered.

His mother, on the other hand, raised her elegantly arched eyebrows. "And why, pray tell, would you do that?" As much as she cared for the boys, she didn't think it would be a good idea to put a pair of eight year olds on fast brooms.

"Harry needs to learn how to fly," Sirius told her seriously. "It's in his blood."

Cassiopeia snorted. "And if you put him on a broom his blood may very well be out of him soon."

She was ignored. Sirius was fixing Narcissa with an intense stare.

Narcissa fixed him with a look of her own. "It's too dangerous," she said, thinking about how Draco on his own on a broom was risky enough, but with Harry on a broom, too, the boys would egg each other on. It would only lead to broken bones.

Sirius, of course, didn't agree at all. "They won't fly unsupervised," he said, sounding insulted that she'd even dare suggest such a thing. "The boy needs to learn how to Fly, 'Cissa." Sirius said, his tone final.

Narcissa looked as if she wanted to protest more, but the look in Sirius' eyes stopped her. Apparently this was quite important to him.

Remus, however, was frowning. "Giving him a broom won't make him more like James, Sirius," he pointed out.

He'd hit a sore spot. Sirius' intense gaze fell, and he sort of deflated, his shoulders hunching. "I- I know," he muttered. "It's just..."

Cassiopeia cuffed him over the head, taking him by surprise. "Stupid boy," she chided him. "Don't try to make Harry into his parents. He is his own person, and should be allowed to continue to be his own person."

Sirius clutched the back of his head. Cassiopeia could hit _hard_. "Crazy woman," he muttered, rubbing his sore scalp.

Draco gave them all a horrified look. "Does that mean no brooms?"

* * *

><p>Harry, who was in the middle of flying around the countryside with Draco, was brought out of his imaginations by the sudden flash of a camera. Turning around to see what was going on, he was surprised to see two persons staring at him. Harry blinked at the duo. She was blonde, her hair stylishly curly, and was gripping a notepad in her fingers. He noticed that she had really long, deep red finger nails that made her look like some cartoon witch – not that Harry had much experience with cartoons, courtesy of Dudley – and the look on her face suggested that she was the cat who'd gotten the cream. Her companion was a short, stubby man who held a large camera in his hands; it was what had made the flash that had startled him so.<p>

"Rita Skeeter," the woman introduced herself, offering him her a hand. When Harry only stared at it her smile faltered just for a moment. Still, she wasn't going to let some hesitation deter _her_. "I'm from the Daily Prophet. May I have a word with you about your new living situation?"

"Uh..."

"Great!" A quill appeared, and to Harry's amazement it began to write without her controlling it. "Tell me, young mister Potter, how is it to live with a former prisoner of Azkaban? Oh, you don't mind if I use this, do you?" She motioned towards the quill with a red-clawed finger.

"Uhm..."

"Wonderful! Now, how long did you say that you've been living with Mr. Black?"

Harry watched the quill swishing across her notepad in wonder, but before he had any chance to answer the woman he felt someone put an arm around his shoulders. He looked up to see Cassiopeia glare at the reporter.

"That's quite enough of that, Miss Skeeter," the elderly witch said, voice dripping with disdain. "Harry, let us go back to Sirius and Narcissa, shall we?"

The photographer snapped a picture of Cassiopeia and Harry before they turned around to leave, earning himself a murderous look from the witch.

They watched them leave, Rita's quill still writing on her notepad. She had a hungry look in her eyes, and a pleased smile was tugging at her lips. This story would be _gold_.

* * *

><p>"Bloody reporters," Cassie muttered darkly, shaking her head as she led Harry back to his godfather. She glanced down at the boy. "Mark my word," she told him, "that spectacle will be all over the news tomorrow morning."<p>

Harry looked horrified, which mollified Cassie's expression somewhat.

"Don't you worry about it, boy," she told him. "It's what reporters do, after all."

Getting the feeling that his great-aunt didn't like reporters too much, he nodded to show that he was listening. He thought that he didn't like them that much, either, even though he'd never met any before now.

"There you are!" Sirius said, and Harry immediately plastered himself to his godfather's side.

Cassie shook his head. "Just barely managed to save him from Rita Skeeter, of all people."

The adults of the group gave a collected shudder at that – while the woman had been useful earlier during the spectacle with the ministry, neither of them held any love for the reporter.

Draco ignored them all, sulking with his arms crossed over his chest. He still hadn't gotten any answer from his mother about the brooms, something which was grating on his nerves quite a lot. He _wanted_ a broom, and he was just about to tell his mother so – again – when the group suddenly turned around to leave the shop, effectively crushing Draco's hopes of ever, ever getting a broom of his own.

* * *

><p>The group explored a few more shops of Diagon Alley, and then, as they were beginning to head back toward the Leaky Cauldron for lunch, Cassie laid her eyes on a store they hadn't visited yet – Eeylops Owl Emporium. She turned her shrewd eyes onto her grand-nephew.<p>

"Sirius," she said, "istn't it about time for you to get yourself an owl?"

He scoffed. "Why?"

Narcissa sent him an admonishing look. "You can't keep using mine forever, you know," she told him.

Harry looked up at his godfather with wide eyes, but didn't dare say anything. Draco had no such inhibitions.

"You don't have an _owl_?" He sounded positively scandalized, and looked very much like a miniature version of his father.

Sirius laughed at the boy and then ruffled his hair, earning himself a glare from Narcissa. "Why should I have one when I can nick your mother's owl?"

Draco looked so shocked at the suggestion that Harry couldn't stop himself from laughing. He immediately regretted it, and let his head fall as a blush spread over his cheeks. He hoped his friend wouldn't be upset with him for laughing.

Sirius, sensing the boy's distress, put his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close.

Cassie, who'd also noticed Harry's mortified blush, chose another way to comfort the child. "What do you think, Harry?" she asked the boy. "Should Sirius get an owl of his own so that Narcissa can keep hers to herself?"

Shocked at having been asked about his opinion, he looked up at her with wide eyes. "Wouldn't it be awfully expensive?" he mumbled, trying to hide his embarrassment.

Cassie scoffed. "As if he has a lack of money."

Sirius gave her a pained look. "Can't we talk about something else?" he pleaded.

"Only if you get yourself an owl."

He was about to start arguing with the woman, but caught the way Harry looked up at him. He sighed. "Fine," he gave in. "I'll go look at a bloody owl. But," he pointed out, "I will make no promises."

Cassie's smile was infuriating.

* * *

><p>The walls of the small shop was lined with cages, and there was only sufficient lighting to make it feel like the shop was in perpetual dusk. Owls watched them with intelligent eyes, some hooting in curiosity. Sirius watched them all with disdain, having already made up his mind about not getting one – he was <em>not<em> going to let Cassie and 'Cissa win.

Harry was walking along the cages, watching the owls curiously. There were several different species, but he couldn't name anyone apart from the barn owls. Still, he found them all very beautiful, and he hoped his godfather would give in to their great-aunt's insistence.

He walked past what he'd first thought had been an empty cage, but when he looked closer he saw that a large owl was sitting deep within the cage, hidden in the shadows of one of the corners. Harry walked closer to the cage curiously, feeling drawn to the owl for some reason.

It watched him with intelligent black eyes, and, surprising the boy, stepped out of the shadows. It was a beautiful owl, Harry had to admit, with dusky feathers that made it look as if it was steeped in shadows. There were small, white speckles on the head and the wings of it, and its belly was a light gray. Its talons looked quite dangerous, but Harry didn't think it would harm him. Its face was heart-shaped and lined with white. Harry found he couldn't quite tear his eyes away from it.

"Taken a shine to 'im, 'ave you?"

Startled out of his thoughts, Harry looked up to see the shopkeeper smile down at him.

"'E's a stubborn one, that one," the man went on. "Sold him twice already, but 'e keeps coming back."

Harry looked back at the owl, which had retreated back into the shadowy corner. "But why would he do that?"

The shopkeeper shrugged. "'E's a proud fella," he explained. "Doesn't want to stay with just anyone." He smiled down at the boy. "Want me to take 'im out fer ye?"

Harry's eyes widened. "Oh, I wouldn't want to be a bother."

"Nonsense," the shopkeeper said, already reaching for the latch to the cage. "'E's taken a shine to ye, 'e 'as."

At that moment Sirius walked over to them, putting his arm around Harry's shoulder. "Find anything interesting, Prongslet?"

The shopkeeper smiled at him, too, apparently not bothered by Sirius status as an ex-convict. "The kid's managed to find ye an owl, I'd say."

Eyes widening in surprise, Sirius looked down in time to see the dusky owl step closer to the boy. The owl looked up at him, as well, with piercing black eyes, and to Sirius surprise it let out a small hoot before promptly flying up to sit on his shoulder.

"I don't think 'e's ever done that before," he said, sounding impressed. "Seems 'e's taken a shine to ye and yer boy."

Sirius, glancing at the owl on his shoulder, nodded absentmindedly. "So it seems."

"I see you've found one," Cassie said, and they all turned towards the old woman.

"I'd say he found us," Sirius said with a grin.

There was no need to point out that Cassie had gotten her way, and Sirius didn't even mind it that much – he found that he actually liked the owl, which they had been informed was a greater sooty owl. It didn't take long to convince him to purchase the owl, and the shopkeeper had thrown in a cage free of charge as a show of good will. "'M just glad 'e's found a 'ome," the man had said when Sirius had tried to pay him for the cage.

"What should we name him, Prongslet?" Sirius asked, absentmindedly feeding the owl on his shoulder a snack. He'd shrunk the cage with his new wand and had put it in his pocket.

Harry looked at him lips pursed in concentration. "I think Hector is a good name."

The owl hooted in agreement, which settled the matters.

* * *

><p>The others were all impressed with the owl who'd refused to leave Sirius' shoulder, and then the group headed towards the Leaky Cauldron again, everyone feeling the onset of hunger. At the Leaky Cauldron they met up with Arcturus and Pollux, both who seemed to be very entertained about Sirius' new owl.<p>

"It was Harry who found him," the ex-convict pointed out, making the skinny boy beam with pride.

"Cassiopeia Black?"

The group turned around to see who had been speaking. An elderly woman wearing a dark green robe and a large, red handbag was looking at Cassie in surprise.

Cassie looked equally surprised. "Augusta Longbottom," she greeted. "It must've been ages."

"Quite so," the other woman agreed. Neither of them mentioned that the last time they had spoken had been well before the war.

"You know Arcturus and Pollux, of course," Cassie said, gesturing towards her cousin and brother. "And I'm sure you've met Narcissa before."

Augusta's nostrils flared, but she only nodded at the blonde woman.

"This is her son, Draco," she said, a pointless introduction since the blonde boy couldn't be anyone else than Lucius offspring, "and this my grand-nephew, Sirius, and his godson, Harry Potter." If Cassie was smug about the company she kept she made a very good job of hiding it.

Augusta's eyes widened only ever so slightly, but otherwise kept her emotions under control. "Pleasure," she said to them.

A plump young boy who seemed to be about Harry and Draco's age suddenly walked up to stand beside her, and it was with a hint of reluctance she motioned him forward. "This is my grandson, Neville," she told them, but didn't wait for him to greet anyone before she ushered him back again. "We were just here to eat some lunch."

Cassie smiled in a way that seemed slightly insincere. "Oh, how marvelous," she exclaimed. "We're here for lunch, too, you see. Perhaps you and your grandson would like to join us?"

Sirius looked as if he was going to protest, but was stopped by Narcissa elbowing him in the ribs.

Augusta certainly looked as if she wanted to decline, but politeness won over in the end and she accepted with only a hint of ill grace.

The group settled in around one of the larger tables in the Leaky Cauldron, and with some shrewd managing Narcissa got the three children to sit by each other, despite Augusta's displeasure at having her grandson sit with a Malfoy.

Draco, who was more outgoing than Harry, looked the new boy over with a critical eye, but then stopped himself with a sigh. He knew his mother would be awfully cross with him if he was anything less than impeccably polite. Besides, the boy might turn out to be fun.

"I'm Draco," he said, reaching out his hand over the table.

The other boy looked at him in surprise, and then took his hand, tentatively shaking it. "I'm Neville."

"Excellent," the boy said. "This is Harry," he nodded towards the black-haired boy beside him, who smiled at Neville.

Neville stared at him. "Are you really Harry Potter?" he asked, blushing.

Harry blinked in surprise. "I've been for my entire life, at least," he blurted out.

The three boys stared at each others for a second, and then Draco laughed. It didn't take long for Harry and Neville to join him – although the plump boy still seemed a bit wary – and they were soon talking about whatever they thought of. Harry told them how he and Sirius had found their new owl, and then Draco steered the conversation towards quidditch and to how terrible it was that he hadn't been given any broom.

"I wouldn't dare fly," Neville admitted morosely. "I'd only fall off and hurt myself. Grandmother says I'm awfully clumsy."

Draco looked absolutely horrified at the thought of anyone _not_ wanting to fly. "We could teach you," he offered the plump boy. "Or, well, I could teach you and Harry," he amended.

Neville looked shocked. "Would you?"

"Of course!"

* * *

><p>The luncheon passed without any catastrophic incidents – although there had been a fair few icy remarks between the two elderly witches, who didn't seem too fond of each other. Remus and Sirius had kept mostly to themselves, talking quietly about this and that, leaving Narcissa to try and keep peace at the table. Pollux and Arcturus, knowing Cassie quite well, weren't too bothered, and spent their time listening to the young boys' conversation instead. Once they were done, they separated, Augusta grimacing as Harry and Draco promised to keep in touch with Neville. The group went back to Madame Malkin's to pick up the boys new clothes, and then they headed back to their respective homes.<p>

"Did you have fun today, Prongslet?" Sirius asked as they flooed back to Grimmauld Place.

Stumbling into his arm-chair, Harry nodded with a smile. Hector the owl finally left Sirius shoulder in favour of sitting on the back of Harry's chair, looking around the room critically.

They spent the rest of the day lazing around in the living room, even going so far as to eat their dinner there, and when bedtime arrived Sirius carried an exhausted Harry all the way up to their bedrooms, tucking him into his bed and kissing his forehead as he bid the boy goodnight.

Harry snuggled into his pillow, smiling as he thought about their day. It had been a bit hectic, what with all the people, but he thought that he might have gotten a new friend in the shy Neville, which made him quite happy.

* * *

><p>They spent the next few days lazing around, letting Hector the owl settle in and Harry get used to his new clothes – which actually fit him! Draco came over in the afternoons, and after giving it a few days thought they penned out a letter – with Sirius' assistance – to Neville. Harry had carfully tied it to Hector's leg, and then carried the owl to the window, asking him politely to deliver the letter to Neville. The owl had hooted softly at him, and had then flown off.<p>

Cassiopeia came by one afternoon, as well, and promptly proceeded in including Draco in the chess-playing. The blonde boy was more strategic than Harry, but lacked the green-eyed boy's ability to adapt to new situations with ease.

Pollux came by for dinner, and at the same time dropped off some books about the magical world he was sure Harry would like, making Sirius roll his eyes. Remus, however, fully approved, and proceeded in finding some of his own old books for Harry. Harry was delighted.

Kreacher kept overfeeding them, of course, but the food he made them was so delicious neither of them had the heart to tell him off. Besides, it wasn't as if they didn't need the food, what with both of them being so skinny.

Then, one day, an owl they didn't recognize knocked on their window, and Sirius let it in with a frown. The owl dropped a letter in his lap and flew off to sit with Hector, who gave it suspicious looks.

Still frowning, Sirius picked up the letter and looked it over. Nothing on the envelope seemed to suggest who'd sent it. Shrugging, he opened it, and as he began to read through it his eyes widened to comic proportions.

"What's the matter, Sirius?" Cassie asked, looking up from the game of chess she was winning against Harry. "Who's the letter from?"

He gave her a look, and then looked back to the letter. "It's from Andromeda."

He might as well have slapped her. "Burn it," she said sharply.

Harry blinked at them in surprise. "Who's Andromeda?" he asked, looking between his godfather and great-aunt.

"She's my cousin," Sirius explained before Cassie got a chance to speak. "She's 'Cissa's sister."

Harry blinked in surprise. "But if she's aunt 'Cissa's sister, why should you burn it?"

Sirius shot Cassie a dark look. "I'm not going to burn it," he assured the boy, "and neither will anyone else."

Cassiopeia huffed. "You've no reason to speak to _her_."

"What, 'cause she's not dancing to the family's tune?"

"She married a _muggleborn_."

"Harry's mum is muggleborn," Sirius pointed out, effectively poking a hole in _that_ argument.

Cassie huffed again. "She was disowned."

"As was I."

"You came back."

"Obviously," he told her, holding up the letter, "she's on her way back, too."

Cassie was running out of arguments. "Arcturus and Pollux will never agree to it," she tried.

Sirius snorted. "As if I'd let the old geezers stop me."

"I suppose you're right," Cassie said with a sigh.

Sirius stared at her in surprised. "Who are you and what have you done with Cassiopeia?"

Harry looked between the two, half amused, half curious. "Why would it be so bad if she came back?" he wondered.

Sirius looked victorious. "Exactly!"

Cassie gave him a look. "I'm not disagreeing with you, Sirius."

"Aw, come on," he said. "You're taking away all my fun!"

* * *

><p>In the end Sirius had decided to meet up with Andromeda at the Leaky Cauldron, and he'd penned back a note to her asking when it would be best to meet up. Cassiopeia had her own reasons for agreeing with Sirius' plan to meet up with the other wayward Black, none of which she told her great-nephew. Silently she hoped the meeting would go well – it was about time the entire family got reunited again.<p>

* * *

><p>Stepping into the floo with Harry, Sirius said "The Leaky Cauldron!" and the two were whisked away. Cassie watched them leave with an unreadable expression on her face.<p>

Arriving at the Leaky Cauldron, they quickly joined up with Remus before starting to look around for Andromeda. After a few minutes the black-haired woman stepped through the doors. She had a nervous look on her face as she approached, but relaxed when she realized that Remus was there, too.

"Sirius," she greeted.

He grinned at her. "Andy."

Most of her nervousness melted away with the flood of memories that assaulted her. He'd always called her Andy.

She greeted Remus as well, and was introduced to Harry, who was watching her with large, curious eyes. The found a table, and after having ordered and received their lunch, Sirius threw up a few silencing charms.

Andy raised an eyebrow at him. "Will that really be necessary?"

He shrugged. "Just in case, you know?"

She rolled her eyes at him. "You're beginning to sound like Orion." For a minute she mentally cursed her big mouth – way to go, Andy, reminding him about his father of all people – but to her surprise the man laughed.

"If you only knew how much that has happened lately. I think even Cassie will end up mistaking me for the old bastard sooner or later."

They'd broached the subject she was most interested in, and she hadn't even had to ask about it. "So it's true, then?" she asked. "You're really staying with the elders?"

He gave her a look that told her he understood her exactly. "I'm as surprised by it as you are," he admitted. "If anyone had told me a year ago that I'd move back into the old home and gladly let the old geezers drop by I would've laughed at them and then hexed them to the next century."

Despite himself, Harry let out a small laugh, and then quickly clamped his hand down over his mouth. Sirius smiled fondly at him, reaching down to ruffle up his hair.

"You should see them around Prongslet here," he told Andromeda with a grin. "Got them wrapped around his fingers, he has."

Harry blushed, not quite understanding what his godfather was talking about.

"They just let you move in without complaining?"

He shrugged. "It is my house," he pointed out, "and in all honesty I think they were beginning to get bored, being only the three of them.

Andy shook her head and leaned back into her chair. "I still can't believe it," she admitted ruefully. "It just seems to good to be true."

They kept talking for quite a long time, even drawing Harry and Remus into the conversation, and Andy found that she quite enjoyed spending her time with her cousin and his odd family. Before they knew it Tom, the barkeep, was there, asking them if they'd like dinner as well. They politely declined, none of them having realized just how much time had passed.

"I should head back home," Andy said. "I'm sure Ted is wondering why it's taking so long."

Sirius gave her a contemplative look. "You should come by the old house some day," he told her with a wide grin. "Bring your husband, too."

She gave him a look. "As if I'd bring him within wand-range of _those_ three."

"Oh, they wouldn't dare do anything with Harry around," he assured her with a grin.

"He's right," Remus pointed out.

"Besides," Sirius added, "It'll be hilarious watching the old geezers try and be polite to a _muggleborn_," he said, mimicking the way someone like, say, Lucius Malfoy would have said the word.

"I don't know..." she hesitated. In all honesty she wasn't too keen to ever go back to that place, but she did want her husband to meet her cousin. "I'll think about it, okay?"

"How about this Saturday?" Sirius said, ignoring her. "Great!"

"I haven't agreed yet," she pointed out.

"Nonsense. See you on Saturday!"

She laughed. "You're impossible, you know that right?"

"I try."

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Who's a lazy updater? _I'm_ a lazy updater! Heheheee. Sorry 'bout that. Anyway, an extra long chapter now since it's been months since I last updated (I'm such a douche), and I'm already writing on the next one. Spell-check hasn't anything new fun to add, but I hope you enjoy it anyway! Also, thank you sooo much to everyone who's reviewed and added it to their alerts and favourites the last few months! It has kept reminding me of what a lazy bastard I am and that I should really get on with my writing!


	26. Dinner time

**Disclaimer**: I wish I owned it. Or, well, I wished I was as rich as JK, at any rate.

* * *

><p>A couple of days later Narcissa and Draco came over, and the two boys disappeared down into the kitchen with the letter they had gotten from Neville. Narcissa smiled at their excited chattering, glad that Harry was opening up to another child.<p>

"Sit down, 'Cissa," Sirius invited, and then called for Kreacher and ordered some tea for him and his cousin.

'Cissa did as she was asked, still smiling. "We should see if we can't fix another play-date with Neville for the boys," she told him. "It'll do them good."

Sirius grinned at her. "What, you're gonna let your little death-eater in making hang out with a Longbottom?"

The stinging hex she sent his way was perhaps a bit stronger than necessary. Still, she glared at him. "Don't you dare call him that." She remembered the war all to well.

"Relax, 'Cissa," he said, rubbing his sore leg where the hex had hit. He seemed pleased with the knowledge that he could still get in under her skin. "Draco's as much a death-eater as I am."

At that moment Kreacher appeared with tea, inadvertently saving Sirius from one of Narcissa's more serious hexes. The elf's appearance was enough to calm the blonde woman down, and she sipped her tea carefully, acting as if she hadn't been about to hex his guts out.

Laughing at her, Sirius shook his head. "You need to relax more," he told her, taking a biscuit from the tray Kreacher had provided.

"You need to take things more seriously," she countered. "And you still haven't answered my question."

"You haven't asked me anything."

The look she sent him could have curdled milk.

"Geesh," he muttered. "See what I mean about relaxing?"

"_Sirius_," she warned him. He had another hex coming his way if he didn't stop fooling around soon.

"Fine, fine," he gave in, rolling his eyes. "No need to get your knickers in a twist."

The stinging hex she sent his way made him yelp loudly.

"You're worse than Cassie," he muttered darkly, rubbing his now sore ribs. "And yes, we should kidnap the Longbottom kid and give him to Draco and Harry."

Narcissa, feeling quite proud at his comment about Cassiopeia, shook her head at him. "As fun as kidnappings can be, it might be easier to go through his grandmother with this one."

Sirius gave her a look, not sure if she was joking or not. "Why don't you send her an owl about it?"

"Do you honestly think she'd want an owl from _me_ of all people?"

He was about to protest, but then his mouth made a small o of understanding as he realized what she was hinting at. Of course Augusta Longbottom wouldn't want to speak to the sister of the woman who'd sent her son to St. Mungos. He grimaced. "I suppose I'll have to do it, then." He doubted the elderly woman would prefer dealing with an ex-convict, innocent or not.

Narcissa shrugged. "Or you get Cassie to do it. She and Mrs. Longbottom seem to know each other."

Sirius barked out a laugh. "Yeah, that's a good idea, sending the family nutter on her. She won't let that kid as much as look in the boys direction if we let Cassie handle it."

"Unlike you, the 'nutter' of the family knows how to behave in a social situation."

"No she doesn't."

"Of course she does. She just doesn't like to do it."

"And you still want to let _her_ do it? Perhaps _you're_ the nutter of the family."

"No, Sirius, that would be you."

At that moment Harry and Draco reappeared in the living room, carrying a letter. They went straight to Hector, who was sitting on the back of Harry's chair, talking excitedly to each other, practically ignoring the grown-ups.

Sirius sighed. "I'll tell Cassie to get in touch with the Longbottoms," he promised Narcissa as he smiled at the boys.

Narcissa just sipped her tea, a victorious smile playing on her lips.

* * *

><p>The Malfoys stayed for lunch as well as most of the afternoon, with Harry and Draco exploring the house with Kreacher as Sirius and Narcissa sat in the living room, discussing the boys, the elder Blacks, as well as a few safe shared memories from their childhood. Everything went quite well, until Sirius asked Narcissa what her dinner plans for the upcoming Saturday were.<p>

"I don't have any, as far as I know," she told him, giving him an arched look. "Why do you ask?"

"I figured we could have a family dinner," he explained, grinning.

"You're up to something, aren't you?"

"Narcissa, you wound me."

"What are you planning?"

"Nothing!" he said, perhaps a bit too innocently. "I was just thinking it'd be nice for Harry to socialize with all of us – Arcturus and Pollux haven't been over for days, now."

Slightly mollified, Narcissa leaned back into the couch. "I suppose that could be an idea," she admitted. "So it would just be you, me, Cassie, Arcturus and Pollux, as well as the boys, would it?"

"And your husband, if he dares to come."

Her eyebrows rose. "Are you sure? The two of you don't exactly see eye to eye."

He shrugged. "I don't like him, but he did help us out. I suppose I can play nice for an evening or so."

Narcissa nodded in approval. "He'll be on his best behaviour, I assure you."

"I can't make the same promise for Cassie," Sirius pointed out with a grin. "She hates his guts, doesn't she?"

Making a very unladylike sound, 'Cissa shook her head. "She still doesn't think a mere Malfoy is good enough for a Black."

"I see nothing wrong with that."

She sent another hex his way. "So, we'll be eight people for dinner?"

"Eleven," Sirius corrected, expression suddenly sombre. "We'll be eleven."

Narrowing her eyes at him in suspicion, she drew her brows into a frown. "Eleven?" She thought for a second. "Ah, Remus, of course. But who are the last two?"

"I invited Andy and her husband."

The silence that fell was deafening. Then, Narcissa reacted. "You did _what_!?"

* * *

><p>Harry and Draco were busy exploring tombs in Egypt – symbolized by the large wardrobes in the guest bedrooms – with Kreacher acting the part of the mummy when they suddenly heard Narcissa yell.<p>

"Draco! Get down here right now. We're leaving."

Draco, who had no intents of further inducing his mother's ire – even though he didn't quite know why she was mad at him this time – gave Harry a panicked look before hurrying out of the room and down the stairs.

Harry blinked at his friend, and then shared a worried look with Kreacher, who was looking out from the closet. Then, they both hurried after the blonde, reaching the living room just in time to see him and Narcissa walk into the fire-place.

"Malfoy Manor," the woman spat and the two disappeared in green flames.

Glancing at Sirius, who was shaking his head, Harry then looked back to the fire-place. "Why did they leave?" He couldn't hide his worry – worry for Draco, worry for Narcissa, and most of all worry that they didn't like him any longer.

Sirius sighed and put his arms around the boys shoulders, pulling him close. "I told 'Cissa Andy would come for dinner this weekend."

Harry frowned. He didn't understand.

Realizing his god-son's confusion, Sirius squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "She and Andy haven't spoken since Andy told the family she was marrying a muggle," he explained, steering them towards the couch. "I wasn't around at the time, but from what I've heard it wasn't pretty."

Looking up at his godfather, still frowning, Harry sat down beside him in the couch. "Did they have a fight?"

Sirius shook his head. "I think it went way beyond a fight," he admitted. "Andy got disowned the same night."

"But why wouldn't Narcissa want to meet her sister again?" Harry supposed he shouldn't be too surprised – aunt Petunia had always gotten upset if he'd mentioned his mother – but still.

"You have to understand, Harry, that back then the Black family were openly... discriminating against muggles and muggle-borns."

Harry frowned. "Discriminating?" he asked, not understanding the word.

Sirius sighed. "They really, really didn't like them, and thought they were worth less." He didn't want to describe it any deeper than that.

Nodding, Harry leaned closer to his godfather. "But they don't any more, do they? I mean, you and aunt Narcissa don't, do you?"

"I've never disliked muggleborns," Sirius assured him. "Your mum was one of the most brilliant witches I've ever known. Narcissa used to share the family opinions, though, but I don't think she does any longer, not that much, anyway." He stroked his hand over the boy's dark hair.

Sighing in content, Harry closed his eyes for a moment. It was nice, sitting with Sirius like this. "But why did she get upset when you said Andy would come here?" he asked after a moment. He still didn't quite understand.

"As I said, she and Andy haven't spoken for years, and they didn't exactly part on friendly terms."

Harry was about to say something, but then Kreacher popped out of thin air with to steaming plates of food in his hands. "Dinner for Master Sirius and Sir Harry Boy, sir." He set the plates down before them, and then disappeared with a pop.

Sirius stared at where the house-elf had been. "Prongslet, why was he wrapped in toilet-paper?"

* * *

><p>The rest of the week passed in pure misery, at least according to Harry and Draco. The blond had even tried throwing a fit to change his mother's mind, but to no avail: the Malfoys were not going back to Grimmauld Place. Lucius had calmly suggested to his wife that she might be overreacting just a tad bit, but that had only earned him several hexes thrown his way.<p>

Harry had spent the days sulking around Grimmauld Place, not even cheering up when Hector returned with a letter from Neville. At first he didn't even know if he should read it, as Draco wasn't there – they had been writing to Neville together, after all – but curiosity won over.

Pollux shook his head as he watched Cassie wipe the floor with Harry in chess. "You're not paying attention, Harry," he said, not unkindly.

Harry just mumbled something in reply, nibbling at one of the cookies Kreacher had placed before him earlier.

Pollux and Cassiopeia shared a look. At least the boy was eating.

* * *

><p>Saturday arrived, and Harry cheered up at the prospect of meeting Andy again. He'd only met her once, but he liked the black-haired woman, and he really hoped aunt Cassie wouldn't scare her away. He didn't know if Andy scared easily, but aunt Cassie was, well, aunt Cassie.<p>

As dinnertime arrived, Sirius popped out to fetch Andy and her husband from the leaky cauldron, leaving Grimmauld Place full of disapproving Black elders.

"Why did I agree to this?" Pollux muttered, shaking his head. He'd been willing to accept his grandson's return to the fold, but this one was going to be a bitter potion to swallow. If they accepted her, that was – judging from the thunderous look on Arcturus face, that wasn't going to happen any time soon. Then again, Sirius had waited until the last moment possible to tell his grandfathers about his plans, all in order to make sure they didn't run away or something. Pollux had been deeply disappointed in his sister when he realized that she'd known the whole time.

"What's taking them so long?" Harry pouted.

"They're probably just catching up a bit," Remus assured him, silently wondering the same thing. He did not like being alone with Harry in a room full of irate Black elders. He mentally berated Sirius – not for the first time, mind you, and certainly not for the last – for inviting the Tonks over. He certainly liked Andromeda and Ted, but his friend must really be mad to mix them with the Black elders.

The fire-place flared green, and Sirius stepped out. He was grinning broadly, and moments later the fire-place flared again and Andromeda walked out with her husband. They were both clad in muggle clothes, and the temperature dropped by several degrees. Even Cassiopeia was frowning.

Harry, however, smiled brightly. "Hi Andy!"

Andy, whose face had been adorned by a grim expression, almost looked surprised at seeing the boy there. Still, she returned his smile. "Hello, Harry. Have you had a nice day?"

The boy nodded. "Yeah! Me and Aunt Cassie played chess all day!"

Andy's eyebrows shot up and she looked at the elderly woman in surprise. Cassie, however, ignored her. "'Aunt Cassie and _I'_," she corrected the boy, putting a hand on his shoulder.

"Go easy on the kid," Sirius scoffed. "He's only eight."

"And bad habits should be corrected early."

"Because you're the poster witch for good habits," he taunted, and then dodged the hex Cassie sent his way, laughing loudly.

Ignoring her great-nephew, Cassiopeia turned to her attention to the brown-haired woman who had been cast out of the family years ago, her lips pursed. The woman's muggle clothing grated on her nerves, but she couldn't deny the guts of the move. It was something she herself might have done in her youth – except that she would never have touched muggle garments, of course. "Andromeda," she greeted. She didn't even look at the woman's husband.

"Cassiopeia."

"And I'm Sirius, and this is Harry!" Sirius cut in, pulling Harry with him and grinning broadly. "Great, now we all know each other!"

Cassiopeia shot him another hex.

"Oi!" he protested, pushing Harry in back behind him, "Be careful!"

The elder witch gave him a dark look. "You wound me, brat," she said. "I do know how to aim."

Remus watched them with something akin to horror, silently wondering when the other two Black elders would snap and crucio them all. Judging by the look on Arcturus' face it certainly looked as if it was going to happen soon. Feeling like averting disaster, he put a hand on Sirius shoulder, giving him a warning look before turning towards Andy and Ted. "Perhaps we should go down into the kitchen?" he suggested, giving Cassie a look similar to the one he'd given Sirius. "I'm sure Kreacher will be ready to serve dinner soon."

There was a general hum of agreement – though both Arcturus and Pollux remained quiet – and the group of them soon found themselves seated around the large dinner table in the kitchen. Remus strategically placed Andy and Ted between himself and Harry, and put Sirius on the opposite side with Pollux and Cassiopeia on his sides. Arcturus had taken the head of the table without being asked – or ordered – and Remus felt it to be safer to let the old man sit wherever he wanted to.

An awkward silence hung over the room. Remus was conversing quietly with Ted over in their corner, and Sirius was making faces at Harry and Andy. Arcturus, on the other hand, was glaring darkly at everyone, and it was putting a serious damper on the entire situation.

Cassiopeia liked to think that she was as displeased with the situation as her cousin, but she also felt that the heavy atmosphere in the room was getting a bit ridiculous. Turning to Andromeda, she gave the disownee a shrewd look. "Tell me," she said, "how do you make your living these days?" The glance she sent Ted suggested that she suspected that the brown-haired woman depended on her husband.

Andy met Cassie's eyes without hesitating. "I work shifts at St. Mungo's," she said, just a tad bit triumphant at the elderly woman's surprised expression.

It was enough to get Pollux's attention. "As a healer?"

"Not full time," Andy shrugged, "and not the most serious cases. But yes, as a healer."

Cassie leaned back in her chair. "Who would've thought," she said, a smile playing on her lips – surprisingly enough. "That could almost be considered an acceptable occupation. Almost."

"It's fortunate that I don't need your approval, then," Andy countered, voice icy.

To her surprise, Cassie laughed. It surprised everyone else, as well, and Sirius gave the elderly woman a suspicious look.

"Who are you and what have you done with Cassie?"

She sent him another stinging hex.

Remus rolled his eyes. "Are you ever going to learn how to avoid those, Sirius?"

"Hush, you!" Cassie scolded him. "Don't spoil my fun."

Andy and Ted shared a look, and then Andy turned to Remus. "They do this often, I take it?"

"On a daily basis."

"Hey!" Sirius protested. "Whose side are you supposed to be on?"

"Not yours."

The mood noticeably lightened, light conversation ensued. Sirius dragged in Cassie in another argument, and Andy took the time to get to know Harry a little better. The boy had kept quiet for most of the time up until then, and she figured he might feel a bit out of place with all the adults. She couldn't help but noticing that Kreacher, the house-elf she remembered as despicably vile, kept filling Harry's plate up over and over. Sirius laughed as she pointed it out to him, and explained how the house-elf had made it his personal mission to ensure that the child got enough food.

On the other end of the table Pollux had gotten into a discussion with Remus and Ted, the topic being books – which surprised no one – and in his interest Pollux even forgot to be snide towards the muggle-born he was supposed to despise so much.

"Oh, I remember that one," Ted cut in when the subject turned onto potion books used in the Hogwarts curriculum. "It was rubbish, wasn't it?"

Pollux, blinking at the man, actually raised an eyebrow. "I did not know you attended Hogwarts."

Andromeda, who had been half listening in to their conversation, gave her grandfather a steely look. "Of course you didn't," she pointed out. "You just heard the word 'muggle', stopped listening, and then burned me off of the family tree."

Cassiopeia snorted, but she still found herself interested in the subject. She pierced the muggle-born with an intense gaze. "Which house were you in?"

Sharing a look with his wife, who took his hand under the table, Ted then met Cassiopeia's questioning gaze. "Hufflepuff."

He might as well have said that he liked to frolic around naked in the streets with a tea-cosy on his head.

Sirius snorted at the elders' reactions. "Geesh," he muttered, giving Ted a look, "they look as if you said you were a ghastly Gryffindor or something."

Harry looked at the Black elders curiously. "What's wrong with Hufflepuff?" Remus had been teaching him a bit about the Hogwarts houses, and as far as he could tell all of them seemed splendid.

Sirius snorted again. "It isn't Slytherin."

"We've talked about this, Harry, remember?" Remus cut in, half leaning over the table to look at the boy. "The Black family didn't like any other house than Slytherin."

"But Sirius was in Gryffindor, wasn't he?"

"And boy am I glad about that."

This time it was Remus that hexed him.

Harry, being used to such antics, turned to Andromeda. "Which house were you in?" He usually wasn't this bold about his questions, but both Cassie and Remus had insisted that he asked whenever he wondered about something.

The woman blinked down at him. He kept surprising her. "Slytherin."

"Just like aunt Narcissa."

Just as the words left the boy's mouth, the door to the kitchen opened and a tall, blonde woman walked in. Her expression was stony and anyone looking closer could see that her knuckles were white from her clenching her hands hard.

Sirius eyebrows reacquainted themselves with his hairline. "Speak of the devil," he muttered. "What're you doing here, 'Cissa?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN**: Dun dun dun _duuun_! Fear not, fanfictioners! An update has arrived. Ahem. I'm using a new spell-check this time, and boy has it given me some glorious suggestions. Muggle-born, for example, should apparently be goggle-boxes, and Hogwarts should be Megawords. Kreacher didn't get away either; he should be overreacher or screecher. Andromeda is an untrimmed palindrome, and Prongslet is a proletarian prankster who lives in Grammatical Place. For Tonks it suggested Conks, Monks and Honks, but my favourite was Tanks. Hufflepuff is reshuffling unhelpful flip-flops as well as Kerfuffle, and Gryffindor should be grindstone or scruffiness. The best one, however, was Slytherin: spell-check suggested nothing less than Leathering, witheringly, katherine, mothering, slithery and lutheran. Oh how I love spell-check.


	27. Secrets

**Disclaimer**: IT'S MINE! (No, no it's not. I lied.)

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><p>Narcissa wasn't sure what had gotten into her, wasn't sure what had made her throw down her book and head to the floo and shout out "Grimmauld Place!" before her husband had time to react. She didn't know what had possessed her to march down the stairs and shove the door to the kitchen open.<p>

She hadn't seen her sister for years, and her first thought was that she looked much the same. Then it struck her just how much she looked like her _other_ sister, and Narcissa felt a pang of hurt run through her body.

Straightening her back, fully aware of how everyone was staring at her, she fixed her elder sister with a cold look before turning to Sirius. "What kind of a host are you, cousin? Aren't you going to invite me to sit down?"

Remus reacted before Sirius had time to. Standing up, he quickly pulled out the chair next to him for the blonde woman. It wasn't unintentional, of course, as this placed both him and Ted between the two sisters. He shared a look with Pollux, who sat opposite, as Narcissa gracefully slid into her chair. Kreacher appeared a second later with a plate for the woman.

The tentative camaraderie that had begun to develop before Narcissa's arrival had been completely blown out the window by her arrival. Arcturus was frowning even more than before, and silence hung heavy over the room. The two sisters refused to look in each others directions, looking remarkably similar in their wooden movements as they stubbornly ate their dinner.

Pollux raised an eyebrow at the blonde woman sitting opposite to him, but she stubbornly ignored him. Sirius was looking between the two women, and a grin was threatening to break out on his face, but a stern look from Remus stopped him from doing anything. Cassie was prudently eating her own dinner, watching how Harry was picking at his – the boy looked miserable. Arcturus was, of course, frowning.

"So," Cassie began, breaking the silence. "How long have you been working as a healer?"

Andy flinched and turned her head to stare at her great-aunt, as if she couldn't quite connect her hearing to the rest of her brain. "For about ten years," she finally managed to get out.

Over in her corner Narcissa looked as if the mere fact that Cassie was talking to the dark-haired disownee was a grave insult.

Several minutes passed in awkward silence, no one knowing what to say or how to say it. Even Sirius was quiet, though that might have been due to the warning looks Remus kept sending him. Pollux started up another quiet conversation with Remus, picking up where they'd left off. Sirius, now that the silence had been broken, started talking with Ted. Andy and Cissa were still not looking at each other. Several minutes passed, a low hum of conversation covering the room.

Then, Arcturus suddenly cleared his throat, and everyone fell silent again, turning to look at the elderly Black. His expression was even more grim than it had been before – if that was even possible – and his eyes were hard enough to crack diamonds. "Remus," he said, the neutrality of his voice somehow much more frightening than any sort of anger could have been, "would you be so kind to retreat to the library with Harry and Mr. Tonks."

It was not a question, and Remus stumbled up onto his feet before he could make a conscious decision about it, mumbling, "Certainly, sir," under his breath. He walked over to Harry's chair, putting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "Come on, Harry."

Harry shared a panicked look with Sirius. He didn't understand what was going on, and it frightened him.

Sirius glanced at Arcturus stony expression, and sensed a loosing battle. He turned back to the child and smiled at him. "Don't worry, Prongslet," he assured the kid – despite not feeling very assured himself. "It'll only be a minute or so."

Cassie rolled her eyes at her nephew. "That's not what he's worried about, you dolt," she said, for once not hexing him, and then she turned to Harry. "We're not going to send you away, kid."

Harry looked relieved, but there was still an underlying fear in his eyes, and he glanced at Arcturus. He felt Remus squeeze his shoulder comfortingly.

"Come on, Harry," Remus said, "I'll show you around the library."

The soft-spoken man turned to the third part of their little group. "Ted?" he asked. "Are you coming?"

Ted looked reluctant at first, opening his mouth as if he wanted to object, but Andromeda squeezed his hand, shooting him a small smile.

"It's all right, dear," she assured him, not fooling anyone. The look they shared seemed to last for an eternity, and then Ted nodded, rose from his chair, and followed Harry and Remus out of the room.

Once the door closed behind them, Arcturus turned his cold eyes onto Narcissa. "If you choose to stay," he said, piercing through her with his look, "It will be as a Black."

Narcissa met his eyes for a moment, black clashing with blue, and then nodded.

* * *

><p>The library was cold and dark, and smelled of old attic. Leading them into the room, Remus conjured a light with his wand in order to be able to see the candles, which he then lit. The room was dust-free – it was one of the rooms Kreacher had never let fall into decrepit ruin – but Remus still made sure to scourgify the two armchairs, just in case. Harry crawled up in one of them, looking around the library with curiosity, but Ted opted for leaning against an uncovered wall, his arms crossed over his chest.<p>

Remus slumped down into the empty armchair, giving Ted a tired but sympathetic look. "I'm surprised you and Andy decided to show up." Had he been in their situation he would've quit the country.

Ted let out a snort. "I didn't want to," he admitted ruefully, "but she insisted."

"Are they going to be all right?" Harry asked, tearing his eyes away from the walls lined with books to look at Remus worriedly.

"I'm sure they'll be fine," Remus assured the boy with a kind smile, not quite believing his own words. Whatever the Blacks were discussing down in the kitchen, he was certain it was unpleasant.

The door to the library opened, and they all looked up to see Andromeda standing in the doorway. Her expression revealed nothing as she turned to her husband. "Shall we head home, dear?"

The Tonks bid Harry and Remus farwell, and then headed for the living room and the fireplace. A few moments later Sirius shuffled into the library. He looked serious, for once, but his shoulders were relaxed and he didn't seem to worried.

Remus raised an eyebrow at him. "How did it go?"

Sirius shrugged. "As well as you'd expect, I suppose." He slid into Harry's chair, picking up the child to put him in his lap. "Both 'Cissa and Andy were as stubborn as they've ever been, and the geezers were just as pig-headed."

"I take it it went well, then?"

"Oh, better than expected."

Harry turned around to look at Sirius. "What happened?"

Sirius grinned and ruffled his hair. "Andy got un-disowned."

* * *

><p>Lucius had to admit that, while he did not like seeing his wife in distress, he was secretly glad that she had left. It spared him from having to explain certain things, such as the letter lying open on his desk.<p>

He had a glass of wine in his hand, but he had barely drunk anything from it. He stared at the liquid, but his mind was far away, his thoughts centred around the letter. It hadn't arrived by owl, of course – he knew certain parts of the ministry still suspected him and would not consider themselves above looking through his mail – but had been delivered to a certain part of his lands that only a few people knew about. It had been delivered to him by one of his house-elves, who had very specific orders concerning situations as this one.

The handwriting of the letter was familiar to him. The sender wasn't a close friend of his, but then again Lucius had very few close friends. It tended to be bad for business – as well as survival. He took an absent-minded sip of his wine. The contents of the letter was worrying, but not strange. He shouldn't be surprised – of course they would start worrying, considering how the press had gone on lately.

Aiming another glance at the piece of parchment, eyeing through the words, committing them to memory, he then casually picked it up and threw it on the fire behind him. It wouldn't do for anyone to find it, after all.

* * *

><p>The next day Narcissa came over again, and this time – to Harry's great delight – Draco had come with her. The boys immediately went off to catch up after a week of absence, leaving the blonde woman in the living room with Sirius and Remus. Harry, of course, told Draco all about the family dinner that the young blond had missed out on, and Draco, not wanting to be outdone, lead the conversation onto quidditch. Then they went on to write another letter to Neville, having been unable to communicate with the shy boy for <em>ages<em>.

The adults enjoyed tea in the living room, casually chatting and avoiding certain sensitive topics. Andromeda may have been reinstated into the Black family, but Narcissa had yet to reconcile with her sister. Cassiopeia showed up in the afternoon and immediately proceeded to challenge the boys to a game of chess. Despite working together, the boys couldn't quite manage to beat the old witch.

After dinner, which both the Malfoys and Cassie had stayed for, they saw the guests off in the living room, and then Remus retired with Harry to the library, having promised the boy to find him some good books. Sirius went along, just to make sure they didn't trigger some long forgotten trap his crazy parents had left behind.

Throughout the next week Harry, Sirius and Remus met up with Andromeda in the Leaky Cauldron twice, Cassie came over for tea almost daily, and Narcissa pointedly ignored any mentions of her sister. Pollux came over for dinner one afternoon, spending the evening talking with Harry about what the boy had been reading lately. Sirius, of course, spent as much time as possible trying to get under Cassie's skin, ending up getting hexed every time.

"We need to do something about this," Sirius said, grinning despite his smarting ribs. Cassie had gone back to her own home, but hadn't left without leaving a stinging hex for her great-nephew to remember her by.

Harry looked up from his book. "What should we do?"

The animagus' grin had certain chessire qualities to it, and he set off explaining to the boy just how he planned to get back at the old woman. To his delight, Harry seemed to have some ideas off his own, and together they worked out a plan for revenge.

The next time Cassie and Narcissa were over at the same time, the duo made their plan reality.

Cassiopeia looked at the two, taking a sip of her tea. "What are you looking so pleased about?" she asked suspiciously. Narcissa, who was also enjoying her tea, looked curious as well.

Harry and Sirius shared a look, both grinning like mad, and watched the two women expectantly. Cassiopeia, realizing something was up, looked down at her tea with suspicion. Glaring at them, she set it down on the table again.

However, the damage was already done. Cassie couldn't see what was happening to herself, but she could see what was happening to Cissa, and her mouth fell open in surprise.

The two prankters couldn't hold themselves any longer – they burst out in laughter as they watched the women's hair beginning to change colour.

Narcissa's eyes widened as she watched Cassiopeia's grey hair suddenly turn bright red, and with a horrified gasp she grasped a strand of her own hair and watched in terror as her blonde hair suddenly changed into Gryffindor red. She looked up at Cassiopeia again, who looked equally horror-struck in her bright red hair, and then they turned towards the laughing pranksters.

"_Sirius_!"

* * *

><p>The prank war that ensued in Grimmauld Place ended with no one having their right hair colour – 'Cissa and Cassie realized with horror that their new red hair colour couldn't be magicked away, Harry and Remus fell prey to one of Cassie's revenge pranks which turned their hair a sickly green, and Sirius hair was turned blue by Narcissa, which resulted in him turning Draco's hair pink – several pies had been wasted on faces, and Pollux's robes had started singing. Towards the end of it Harry and Draco had teamed up, and the adults realized with horror that the boys proved to be more ingenious about pranking than Sirius had been at that age. Despite not being able to use magic, they managed to cover Remus in paint, get a bucket of water to fall down over Sirius' head, and with Kreacher's help make Cassie's food ridiculously spicy.<p>

The now colourful bunch were enjoying a moment of respite in the living room, having taken a time out from warfare in order to eat lunch in peace – though Draco's spinach started dancing. Pollux was sitting in one of the armchairs in the living room, his robes faintly humming an upbeat tune. Harry and Draco had finished most of their lunch, and were watching in fascination as Draco's spinach kept dancing – at the moment it was performing an impressive tap-dancing routine. They laughed in horrified delight as Hector, the great sooty owl, suddenly swooped in through the window to eat the spinach, mistaking it for some small animal.

The owl, realizing his mistake, gave the boys a murderous look, dropped of the letter he had been carrying down onto Harry's plate, and flew up to sit in the chandelier to mope. Harry and Draco ignored him, of course, as the letter soaking in leftover gravy on Harry's plate was from Neville.

Sirius looked at the two boys lazily, twirling his wand in his fingers. He then turned to Cassie. "Hey, ginger," he said with a grin, "you know that Longbottom woman, right?"

Cassiopeia, calmly sipping from her cup of tea – which she had thoroughly checked for pranks and hexes before drinking – gave her great-nephew a warning look. She didn't do anything, however, as they had decided that lunch should be hex-free. "Vaguely," she admitted. "We don't exactly have the same social circles." She rolled her eyes at Sirius's blank look. "The Longbottoms have always been followers of Dumbledore and his ilk."

"But you talk to her, right?"

"We converse when we meet, yes. Why do you ask?"

Sirius grinned. "I was thinking of staging a kidnapping."

* * *

><p>Augusta Longbottom watched her grandson with affection. She hadn't seen the boy so lively since his great-uncle had given him a tour of the green-houses, and it warmed her heart to see him smile so excitedly as he rushed through his breakfast. Still, she was worried – how she worried about him – as the reason for his excitement was, perhaps, less than desirable.<p>

She didn't know what had possessed her to allow two Blacks and a Malfoy into her home. Cassiopeia, a woman whom Augusta respected, but would never call an ally, had approached her with the idea of arranging a play-date between the boys, who had been writing so much to each other lately. Augusta's first reaction had been to refuse, but she had remembered how happy Neville had been lately, ever since he met with the young Malfoy and Potter. Thinking how how her darling young grandson seemed to have problems making friends, Augusta's determination to not let any relative of one of the ones responsible for her son and daughter-in-law's conditions faltered. Besides, the Malfoy boy was of good stock on his father's side – it would do Neville well to socialize with one from the society's elite.

As a result, it had been decided that the two boys would come over and spend the day, accompanied by Cassiopeia and Sirius. Augusta had been reluctant to let the adult Blacks come, but it had been made clear that Sirius was not going to let Harry go anywhere without him, and Augusta had given in.

The moment the guests had arrived Neville, Harry and Draco went off to Neville's room, talking excitedly amongst each other about everything they could think off. Draco did most of the talking, but Harry, who had gotten more and more sure of himself lately, made sure to include both himself and, to a lesser extent, Neville into the conversation.

As it was getting close to December it was quite cold out, which meant the boys were limited to remaining inside. As the Longbottom Mansion was quite large, it didn't bother them too much, and they were soon off exploring the rooms, pretending to be off out in the world looking for exciting new lands.

Neville, who had something of an interest in botany, started talking about all the strange plants they might find, which resulted in Draco giving him a bored look.

"Who cares about _flowers_," the blond complained, much more interested in fighting weird monsters and become famous.

Neville visibly deflated, his prior excitement leaking out of him. Harry, who remembered that feeling just a tad bit too well – he'd lost count of how many times hadn't Dudley made _him_ feel like that – glared at Draco.

"_I_ care about flowers," he said, surprising himself with his boldness. "Besides, it's not just flowers, is it Neville?"

Neville stared at the black-haired boy in surprise. No one had ever defended him like that before. "Y-yes," he agreed, a warm feeling spreading through his stomach. "N-not all plants b-bloom."

Draco looked absolutely shocked at having been contradicted, and realized that he had no come-backs. Not so strange, perhaps, considering that he was only eight years old. As a result, he gave in to the two other boys and let them include plants in the game. He did try his best to include monsters as well, of course.

The day passed far too quickly in the boys opinion, and it was only very reluctantly that Draco and Harry let themselves be taken home, and only after having made the adults promise that they'd get to visit again. Even Augusta hadn't been able to say no after having looked at the absolutely delighted expression on Neville's face as he played with his new friends.

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><p>Sirius, feeling encouraged by how well it had went the last time, announced that he was going to host another family dinner, inviting everyone again. Arcturus and Pollux declined, apparently having other plans, but everyone attended, and Draco got to meet his aunt for the first time. Andy and Cissa didn't talk to each other, but the dinner went surprisingly well, and the guests even left in a good mood without having hexed anyone.<p>

* * *

><p>Taking advantage of the fact that his wife and son were away for the evening, Lucius had donned his cloak and, after barking some orders to the house-elves, he had apparated away. He wasn't worried about the meeting he was headed to, but he knew that it could change quite a lot, and he was going to have to be very careful with his words. After all, it would be highly inconvenient if he made the ones he was meeting with into enemies.<p>

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><p>When Narcissa and Draco came home later that evening, Lucius wasn't at home. As it was late, Narcissa tucked her son into bed, hiding the thoughts twirling around in her mind behind a soft smile as she bid her darling good night. Once done, she went down into the drawing room. A small frown was creasing her brow as he waited for her husband to return home.<p>

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><p><strong>AN**: I've been pretty good with my updates lately, haven't I? Go me.


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